The Jedi of the North
by Tellemicus Sundance
Summary: It was just a normal day in Westeros. The lords were bickering. The smallfolk were toiling. The schemers were playing their games. And the Starks were preparing for winter. Until a massive fireball came crashing down from the heavens above, bringing with it new players, new weapons, and new ideas. The Game of Thrones is about to change...
1. An Unexpected Arrival

**.**

**The Jedi of the North  
**Written by: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: ffdrake  
_#01: An Unexpected Arrival_

**295 AC  
Wolfswood, the North**

The day had started like any other in the North. Cold, cloudy, and windy, despite it still being in the heart of summer. But that wasn't anything new to the group of men who were bustling about around a series of tents and campfires. All but one of the men gathered wore the dark direwolf sigil of the Starks upon their chest or cloak or shoulders. Each were dressed in heavy leathers and wool to combat the cold of the early morning. They were scurrying about their campsite, breaking down the tents, gathering up the supplies and loading up their packhorses for travel. Even the three youngest among them were busy rolling and binding their tents, all too eager to get on the road again.

The group had spent the night on a barren rocky crag that jutted up from the surrounding low hills and woodlands an almost tower like structure on one side. Its large and sharp rocky walls offering up a surprising amount of protection from the ever-present winds. And its elevated position gave an excellent field of vision along this stretch of the road to those who camped upon it. It was a common place for travelers caught on the Torrhen's Road far from the safety of Winterfell to stop and rest for the night. But it was also a common place for particularly foolish or brave bandits to camp out as they waited for passing travelers down below to raid.

"It's a wonderful location for a small keep," the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, Eddard Stark, said softly to himself as he surveyed the lay of the land below.

He'd had the thought many times before. It would make for an ideal strategic holding position, especially since it was only a day and a half's ride from Winterfell. Sadly, this fact was not lost on the local bandits either and the North had to periodically clear out any encamped marauders. However, the reason why Eddard hadn't decided to do anything with the crag, like build a small keep on the site, was probably the same reason why no other Stark or house had done so either. While it was an ideal defensive landmark, it was also in a remote location far off from the more frequently traveled paths.

'_Although, perhaps that could be a good thing_…' he thought to himself as he glanced over at his sons, specifically at his bastard son, Jon Snow. And, judging by the appraising eyes that both his sons were making of the area, they were having similar thoughts themselves. _'This could be a good place for him…if he wants it_.'

"My lord," Jory Cassel, the captain of his guard, approached Eddard with his riding helm tucked under his arm. "We'll be ready to depart within a few minutes."

Nodding, Eddard stood from where he'd been seated on a flat rock near the firepit, picking the last of the meat from one of the cooked hares they'd had for dinner and tossing the bones off to the side. "Then let us be off."

Within a few short minutes the score of men and three boys were mounted and gingerly making their way down the narrow path they'd used to reach their campsite. It was slow going, but they made good time now that their mounts could see where they were heading.

Once back on Torrhen's Road, the ride back to Winterfell resumed. It was mostly amicable riding as many of the men were either good friends or familiar acquaintances with one another. Though he did have to lightly reprimand Theon Greyjoy when he tried and succeeded at picking at Jon's pride.

Pulling his horse up alongside that of his son and heir, Robb Stark, Eddard shot the boy an evaluating gaze as his son met his eyes briefly. "So, my son, what have you learned from this journey?"

Robb gained a thoughtful look on his youthful face as Theon and Jon both glanced over as well. One more discreetly than the other. At just over twelve years of age, Robb was still quite thin and boney, having not yet earned the muscle mass that grown men possessed. His dark red hair was starkly visible from where it peeked out from under his helm, a splash of red on his otherwise dull brown and gray furs and riding leathers. After a moment of careful consideration, Robb finally looked back at his father. "That Ser Helman's dispute with that Braavosi merchant was embarrassingly simple to resolve?"

The somewhat impish grin on his childish face revealed his humorous intent behind the statement. On the other side of Robb, Theon snickered. He'd had a merry time during their visit to Torrhen's Square, mocking the young Tallhart son. Even dour Jon had a wry grin on his face at Robb's jest. But Eddard kept his face firm and gaze steady. This was a serious question and he would have a serious answer from his son and heir. Robb understood that look immediately, having seen it increasingly more often as of late as Eddard began giving the boys more education in the art of ruling.

So, that being the case, the boy hurriedly clarified. "The transport upriver from White Harbor and over land from Cerwyn is a long, slow process that could easily be attacked by marauders and bandits, with goods stolen or broken. The argument over whether the taxes and tariffs were of a fair price and worth the risk was a good one and Torrhen's Square needs those supplies."

"Very true," Eddard stated, nodding his head agreeably as he idly ducked under a low-hanging branch. Robb flushed slightly out of pride at his father's approval. "But that wasn't the point of this trip."

"Eh…?" Robb uttered in confusion, his happiness evaporating as he turned a confused look towards his lord father. "Then what was the point?"

"One day, Robb, you will be the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," Eddard said gravely. "But doesn't mean you must anchor yourself _to_ Winterfell, summoning any quarreling lords to you. Our duty as Lords Paramount is the protection of our people. To see them thrive is one of our utmost important tasks. And for that to happen, sometimes we must venture forth from Winterfell."

"To see the lands and meet the people ourselves," Robb spoke up, a look of understanding crossing his face. Eddard shot the boy a small smile as he nodded in confirmation.

"Correct," he said. "Remember, our way is the old way. We are not Southerners. We do not hold court exclusively in our own castles. We do not simply summon our lords and expect immediate and absolute compliance. And many of our bannermen would take offense if we _did_ attempt such things on a regular basis."

"I understand, father," Robb said, nodding his head.

Looking past him, Eddard could see that Jon also had a thoughtful expression on his face. At least he did until he saw Eddard's gaze and he quickly looked away, his face shifting back into a neutral blank expression. Despite himself, Eddard couldn't help the small burst of amusement that bloomed behind his breast at seeing Jon like that. It reminded him strongly of those few times he'd accompanied his own father on such journeys, before his fostering down in The Vale.

"Good, remember that, son," Eddard said before returning his attention back to his riding and drifting up towards the front of the group. Behind him, he could hear the three boys start up a quiet conversation among themselves.

It was just starting to near midday when he…noticed it. He wasn't sure how or why or what it was. It just…a feeling. That was the only way he could describe it. A tingling feeling that ran up his spine and sent shivers of…fear, anticipation, excitement back down his spine. His whole body suddenly started tingling and twitching with seemingly irrepressible energy as he felt something…_change_.

It was a feeling he'd felt several times throughout his life. When he was a young boy, scarcely older than his young son Bran, his own father had once told him that it was a call from wolfsblood within them. An instinct of near-magical proportions that many Starks possessed. The first times he'd ever felt the wolfsblood within himself had been during the Grand Tourney at Harrenhal: when the Mad King Aerys had made his presence known, when he'd seen Prince Rhaegar start winning in the lists with near impunity, when the Knight of the Laughing Tree appeared and vanished, and when he caught his first glimpse of…of _her_. Eddard also remembered having similar feelings just prior to the start of Robert's Rebellion, around the time that he'd later learned was when his father and brother had been executed. As well as multiple times throughout the ensuing chaos and war, even a few during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He'd learned to always trust and follow these feelings whenever they cropped up because, more times than not, they foretold of an approaching crisis or something of extreme importance.

Subtly, he started glancing around the wooded road they were following, searching for anything that might've set off his wolfsblood. But aside from a few small critters that were scurrying about the foliage and through the canopy above, the road was empty. The trees were thin and small here, recent growth following a bad fire several years prior, which made for poor hiding places. No, nothing was in sight that he could immediately and easily see. Nevertheless, his hand had drifted subtly to rest upon the hilt of his sword. Not Ice, sadly, the ancestral blade of House Stark was unfortunately too large and cumbersome to be used in combat despite being Valyrian steel.

Glancing back at his men, he saw that many of them didn't seem to have notice the change in the air. Oh, they were watching their surroundings and keeping themselves ready in case of an unexpected ambush. Wildlings and marauders were common in the wolfswood after all. But they didn't have that air of tensed readiness that troops had when they knew that trouble was nearby. However, Jon, Robb, and surprisingly Theon did. Jon and Robb's eyes were darting to both sides of the road, searching like he had. Whereas Theon was fingering the yew bow and quiver of arrows that were nestled upon his saddle. All of them seemed to have felt his gaze on them as they glanced up at him momentarily. He nodded discreetly before turning his attention back to their surroundings. Where was this feeling coming from?

As if to almost answer his unspoken question, the horses started acting up. Nickering and neighing with unease, slowing from the light amble they'd been moving at to almost a stop as their ears swerved about. It was only at this point that the rest of the armsmen in the party took note that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" Jory asked as he sidled his horse over towards Lord Stark, having quickly noticed his lord's strange alertness.

"Something's…coming," Eddard stated. "I don't where or what it is, but something big is going to happen…very soon."

Before Jory could ask the obvious question that was on his lips, a quiet voice called out hesitantly, "Can you hear that?" It was Jon.

Everyone turned to look at him strangely with Theon shooting him an especially snide look as he asked, "Hear what?"

"I hear it too," Robb stated evenly, cocking his head slightly to try and locate whatever sound he heard.

Before anyone else could speak up, the sound reached everyone else's ears, a most peculiar sound at that. It was distant yet distinct, like a low, far-off, but intense wind galling high in the air. Without warning their horses started whinnying in increasing volumes of distress as they shuffled and bucked about slightly. It was only experience and gentle handling from their riders that prevented the horses from going into the panic they clearly wanted to.

"I don't like this," one of the armsmen said. "We should hurry on to Winterfell, Lord Stark!"

"What is that?" Someone else asked, also starting to look around, trying to find the source of the gall from within the woods. "Is there a storm coming?"

Robb and Jon's heads both shot up as they looked towards the sky. Seeing the slight widening of both boy's eyes, Eddard also looked skywards. He felt his own eyes widen involuntarily as he too located not only the source of the wind sound but the tingling feeling as well.

"Not likely," another of the armsmen argued back. "Winter may be coming, but it's still a long while off before fall. I think—"

"Look!" Robb called out; his eyes wide as he pointed upwards towards what had attracted his gaze.

Following his gaze and pointed arm, everyone else looked upwards, eyes widening at what they saw. "By the old gods…!"

Up in the sky, somewhat hidden behind the canopy of leaves and branches, was a terrible and fiery star falling fast towards the earth. The closer it came the louder the noise became until it was louder than even the sounds of the animals and tress surrounding them. While falling stars weren't unheard of, indeed there were more than a few legends and myths surrounding such things from all around Westeros, they were rare events. Rarer still were the stars that had any real mass to them once they'd reached the ground. But never in any of the myths and legends that Eddard had heard of had they mentioned a fiery star quite like the one that he was seeing now.

The star was simply massive in size. Easily as large as castle. That fact alone already set it apart from the other tales. But another oddity was the shape of the falling star, which he could just barely see though the fire surrounding it. He was no maester, he had no interest in the mathematics beyond simple account keeping, or of the shapes and angles that made up the world. But even he knew that nature didn't create perfectly straight lines in any of its structures. No river or mountain or island or tree was ever perfect, only manmade structures were. What he was seeing was clearly not a natural creation. The star had the basic shape of a spearhead with what could've charitably have been called a castle or tower of some sort mounted on the broader back half. And despite it being on fire as it plummeted unnervingly towards where he and the rest were standing, Eddard could also see that the star had the distinctive sheen of polished metal over its surface, which only solidified his realization that it wasn't natural.

"_Everyone! Dismount!_" Eddard roared over the rising din of the falling star. He quickly followed his own order, slipping out of the saddle and grasping tightly to the reins of his horse. "_**Brace yourselves!**_"

The massive metallic star roared overhead, disturbingly close. Once it had passed by, powerful winds swept through the trees, sending loose foliage flying in its wake, knocking more than a few of the men and horses off their feet. Several of the men screamed out in pain as their horse's falling body landed upon them, breaking bones or just knocking them off their feet. Even Eddard had been sent flying, losing hold of his horse and stopping only when he impacted a nearby tree. Thankfully, his horse was one of the few that managed to brace itself better and stayed on its feet. Before either beast or man could recollect themselves, the sounds of an impact off in the distance reached them, like a thunderous din. The earth trembled and shook violently beneath their feet, sending what few men remained still standing to the ground. Another strong gust of wind followed this, but nowhere near as powerful as the first. But unlike the first, this one carried with it the smell of smoke and dust and ash.

As the rumbling thunder of the crash far off passed by and faded into the distance, everyone took a collective breath of relief now that the initial danger was over. Picking himself off the tree, Lord Stark stumbled forward, looking about his men. Most of them were also picking themselves off the ground. Thankfully, none seemed worse for ware, including his two sons and Theon. '_Thank the gods for that_,' he thought before he hurried over to help with the groaning and crying men who remained on the ground, those who'd been struck by or had a fallen horse land over them. Speaking of which, many of the horses had run off as soon as they'd recovered from their falls, disappearing down the road in a wild, panicked rush. Only three of them remained behind, their reins held tightly by their riders who'd fought to keep them close.

"How many are injured?" Eddard demanded as he helped pick a man back to his feet. The man didn't seem hurt, just disoriented and winded.

"Uh, I-I count five, my lord," Jory answered hesitantly, looking northwards towards where the star had landed, even as he too helped a man back to his feet.

"Three horses," Eddard said softly with a frown upon his face. "We're fortunate then. Help the injured onto a horse, two per horse! Looks like we're walking the rest of the way, or until we find our horses again."

"Aye," Jory nodded, turning to start issuing the orders.

Eddard made his way over to the three boys, all of whom were staring north with wide almost frightened eyes. "You lot okay?"

"Y-Y-Yes, father," Jon answered, tearing his gaze away to look at his lord father, Theon and Robb soon joining him.

"Lord Stark, _what __**was**__ that?!_" Theon demanded, a hint of fear still lingering in his voice with his hands curled into tight fists, no doubt to prevent them from shaking.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But whatever that star was, it wasn't natural."

"It was made of metal," Jon pointed out softly. "Only man can work rock into metal."

"But the sheer size of it…It was almost as big as Winterfell! What kind of man could build a castle of metal like _that?!_" Robb asked, not disagreeing but still obviously confused. "Let alone one that looked like it was meant more for flight!"

"I don't know," Jon answered, looking at his sibling with his usual calmness fast returning.

"Maybe men from beyond the Sunset Sea?" Theon suggested weakly, his wavering voice betraying his own uncertainty.

"We will know in time, very soon," Eddard stated. "For now, we march for Winterfell. Help those who need it if you can. But try to keep pace. We're about four hours ride from home, so we'll be moving at a quick pace for a while."

"Aye!" all three boys chorused.

* * *

**Winterfell**

The next two days were a flurry of activity within the walls of Winterfell. It wasn't a surprise. Everyone knew what had happened and what was about to happen. The falling star, or the Fallen Star as some of the smallfolk had taken to calling it, had been seen by nearly everyone. And those that hadn't seen it had most definitely _heard_ and _felt_ it when it had landed somewhere deep in the wolfswood. When Lord Stark had returned late the previous night, he'd declared that he was going to investigate the fallen object and put out a call for any and all able-bodied volunteers. His call was answered almost immediately as just about everyone in Winterfell wanted to lay their eyes on the fallen star, but since he and his group were exhausted and injured from the long march, the new venture was postponed until Eddard and his men that'd traveled with him had gotten a good night's sleep.

Lord Stark had proclaimed that they would be heading out early the next morning at the first sign of light. And by the time the Lord of Winterfell made himself known, the yard of Winterfell was already packed with volunteers. Smallfolk arming themselves with whatever they could find while the guardsmen of House Stark donned their armor and sharpening their weapons. To the side of the yard, those unable or unwilling to make the trek were busy as well gathering and packing supplies for those who were venturing out.

Almost hidden within the grouping, Jon Snow busied himself by tightening the straps of his saddle on his chosen horse. He was dressed in a dark, heavy gambesome that was clearly meant for a larger man. Thankfully, he had also acquired a hardened leather chest plate that he tied tightly around his torso, picking up the slack of the gambesome quite well. Hanging from his belt was a longsword on his left and a dagger on his right.

Yawning widely as he finished tightening up the last belt, he glanced over towards the stables. He could see Lord Stark speaking with his Lady wife. Though he couldn't be sure, it looked to him that Lady Catelyn was once again trying to argue against his father making this journey himself. The Lady had been strangely jumpy and in fact almost seemingly frightened since their return the two nights ago. It didn't surprise Jon that she apparently saw the Fallen Star as some type of sign, an omen of ill fortune sent by her beloved seven gods. So, her spending an inordinate amount of time pestering Lord Stark to not go and investigate the wolfswoods also wasn't surprising to him. Nor was her pleading to exclude her dear son Robb from the expedition, since it was possible, probable even, that fighting would be involved and he might get injured or, gods forbid, killed.

'_I won't let that happen_,' Jon declared resolutely in his head as he shot a look over towards Robb. His sibling was already mounted on his horse and waiting for the rest of the men and father to ready themselves. It seemed he was unusually eager to get back out there and explore the woods. Not that Jon could blame him. He was excited too. His whole body was tingling and shivering with anticipation. He didn't why, but he knew that this expedition would be exciting, terrifying, and that things would be different when they returned somehow. After all, the single-most unique celestial event of the past several millennia had happened within their kingdom, within their _lifetime!_ Whatever happened in the coming days would undoubtedly be remembered for years to come!

'_Okay, maybe that's too optimistic, but I still know that __**something**__ important is going to happen_,' he admitted to himself, reining in his childish enthusiasm as he led his horse out of the stable and towards the bustling mass of other horsemen. He didn't mount his horse right away, simply trying to fade into the crowd of 200 armsmen. Less of a chance of being spotted by Lady Stark that way. He really didn't want to earn her attention right now as he knew it'd be the most surefire way of dampening his enthusiasm. Besides, by the end of the day, he knew he'd be anticipating dismounting the beast as quickly as he could.

As he made his way through the crowd, Jon caught glimpses of his other siblings. He could see Sansa, Arya, and Bran all gathered over the inner gatehouse that led to the inner courtyard and the Great Keep. All of them had the same expressions of excitement and curiosity, but also concern and confusion, some more than others. While they seemed to be looking over the whole horde, he knew they gazes kept swinging back towards their arguing parents.

"Men! Mount!" Lord Stark bellowed suddenly, snapping Jon from his musings. He, like all the others, quickly climbed into his saddle and situated himself. After several moments pause, as his father no doubt waited for any stragglers, he called out again, "Ride!"

In a great flurry of motion and noise, the small army trotted out through the gatehouse and towards the wilderness beyond. Once all of the men were out, Jon looked back briefly to see that gates and portcullis of Winterfell slam shut behind them. Lady Stark must've really been certain of bad omens appearing then if she barely waited for her husband to leave before ordering the keep sealed shut. But he quickly pushed that thought from his mind and focused on the horse under him and the road ahead.

* * *

**Wolfswood**

It had been more than fortnight since the large search party had left Winterfell and since then their numbers had grown. Much to the boys' initial surprise, they had been joined quite quickly by random smallfolk who were also venturing into the wolfswood. The smallfolk seemed to have fallen under the general belief that this was a chance for them. A chance to reenact the old House Dayne legend where if they managed to find the heart of the Fallen Star and had it forged into a sword, they or their families might one day become a great House too. Robb and Jon could easily see the appeal of such a thing, but Theon had laughed himself hoarse the first time he'd heard that.

But the part that really solidified it to them just how large this search truly had become was when, on the second day, they were joined by a hundred armsmen from House Cerwyn, led by Lord Medger himself. The next Lord to arrive was Helman Tallhart, also bringing a hundred men. As they moved ever deeper into the wolfswood, some of the smaller noble houses started popping up and adding even more men to the searchers.

"Wait, Lord Whitehill isn't _also_ coming, is he?" Robb had asked his father after they'd met up with Lord Gregor Forrester and his son, Rodrik.

"Most certainly, he is," Eddard had answered grimly, sharing in Robb's reluctance and reservation. While the Whitehills might've been loyal to House Stark, they were as companionable towards the Forresters as fire and water. Needless to say, no one was looking forward to the coming days of company between the two Houses.

Three days later, in true one-upmanship, Lord Ludd Whitehill had indeed made a big show of him having dedicated easily twice as many men to the cause than his hated rival. Perhaps the only good news that Lord Ludd had brought with him was the fact that House Glover was also marshalling its bannermen on the other side of the wolfswood and would be traveling east, hoping to meet up with the Stark host near the approximated crash site. All totaled, what had started out as a modest host of 200 men from Winterfell had grown to upwards of a thousand men in as many as five days, and more were still trickling in as the days progressed.

But even with all that manpower and willing volunteers, finding the site of the crash was proving to be a surprisingly daunting task. Not only was the estimated crash site in the midst of the forest, where there were no actual roads or paths, but the terrain was even rougher and the forest denser with larger and older trees. And more than a few dangerous wild animals like the many wolfpacks, bears, and even a shadowcat or two. It was an area of the forest that was rarely, if ever, explored by man. Not even the most desperate or dedicated of hunters came this deep into the woodland.

But despite the vast amount of territory that they needed to explore, Robb knew they were on the right track. The first and most obvious reason for this belief was the increasingly strong scent of smoke and ash that hung heavy in the air. Apparently, when the star had fallen, it had started a wildfire in the area immediately around it which had spread to other nearby regions before eventually dying out. As a result, the smoke hung heavy in the air, like the potent perfumes that Essosi merchants liked to wear. Though, recently, the smell had been started to fade as the winds finally began clearing the haze from the air. But enough of the smell remained to be a decent guide as they tracked the scent deeper and deeper into the woodlands.

Another passing clue were the strange noises that passed by overheard every so often. The noises were the most peculiar things that any of the Northerners had ever heard before. They sounded like a growl, a hum, and roar all combined together as the noises passed by overheard at mindboggling speeds. Sometimes, if the noise was especially loud, there'd be an accompanying gust of wind once the noise had passed them by. No one tried fooling themselves into thinking that the noises were some of kind bird or creature that they'd just never come across before since no one came this deep into the wolfswood. No, whatever the noise was, it was somehow connected to the fallen star. Though none of the hunters or trackers could identify what the sources of this noise was, and the noise was always gone before any man could climb a tree fast enough to even catch a glimpse, it still didn't take long for them to notice that the noises always seemed to be heading to and from one area of the forest. So, using that as guide, as well as the stench of the smoke, the Northerners continued their trek with growing anxiety and excitement to what they'd find.

But the last reason that Robb knew they were on the right course was that bizarre tingling sensation that he'd been feeling ever since just before the star had fallen. Robb couldn't exactly explain what he was feeling. But the closest he could compare it to being was a vague pull in a certain direction, combined with a strange and inexplicable understanding that his destiny was both awaiting him and about to change when they arrived. It was a very queer thing that left him equally unsettled and excited. And he knew he wasn't the only one feeling it. Jon and father also felt it. Even Theon seemed to have a similar feeling, since he was noticeably less overbearing in his usual arrogance and was becoming surprisingly more somber and alert the closer they got.

"My Lord!" a scout from up ahead suddenly called out softly, waving his arm to further bring attention to himself. The man was on foot and crouched behind a freshly toppled ironwood tree up near the crest of small hill. Robb's heart started hammering hard in his chest. Finally. They'd found something.

Robb joined his father in dismounting his horse and hurrying quietly up the hill, hand resting firmly on the hilt of his sword, his heart starting to beat as fear and excitement built. His excitement was such that he outpaced his father and reached the scout a few moments ahead of him, crouching low as he peered over the tree. What he saw was both reassuring and confusing at the same time and he was still trying to puzzle out what he was seeing as his father drew up alongside him, also crouching lowly.

Two men were visible at the bottom of the hill on the other side about an arrow's shot away. Robb could easily tell that they were indeed fully-grown men just from their size, body shape, and stature. But what really made spotting them easy was the fact that they wore eye-catching white armor over some kind of a black undersuit, but no chain mail. Robb could tell immediately that the blocky white armor they were both wearing was like nothing ever seen before in Westeros. The colors and angles were too…perfect, for lack of a better term. Like the armor had been just freshly made by a blacksmith less than a day ago at best. There was not a scuff nor scratch nor any number of other wear and tear usually associated with worn armor visible on it. The armor was practically gleaming in what little sunlight reached the forest floor. Add to the fact that two armors seemed completely identical to one another in every way conceivable.

But there was also the fact that the armor consisted of sectioned pieces, not unlike regular plate armor but with no visible belts or straps to hold it in place. Plus, the armor covered very few places on the men's bodies, just the upper torso with shoulder pauldrons and pads over the elbows and knees. There were no gauntlets or grieves, just boots and gloves. Strapped around the two men's waist were some pouches of different sizes. But one in particular caught his attention. It was the pouch that hung on the men's right sides. The pouch was black and seemed to be made of leather. Both pouches on both men also had some kind of strange object thrust into them. Robb couldn't help but feel an ominous shiver run down his back as he immediately realized that those objects were some kind of weapon. Although what kind of weapons they were, he had no idea.

Yet what was easily the most eye-catching thing about these two men were the strange helms they wore. The fronts of the helms were partially covered by a curved metallic piece clearly meant to protect the men's eyes from the sun glare. But it was the faceplate that was most striking about the helms. Most Westerosi helms tended to fall on the more artistic side than practical, trying to make a knight seem more menacing while still offering some protection. Robb often heard tales of knights' helms bearing the resemblances of lions, dragons, stags, bulls, and all manner of creatures. Sometimes to represent their individual Houses, or because the knight was trying to be attract attention on the battlefield or in a tourney. But these two helms were clearly different. Despite again being completely identical, they weren't stylized in the traditional Westerosi manner. In fact, rather than make the two men look menacing, those white and queerly shaped faces made them seem inhuman, even monstrous.

All of that was taken in within just a glance. His evaluation finished, Robb turned his attention to what they were doing and frowned. The two armored men were crouched down over a large boar and were in the process of gutting it. '_Poaching_,' Robb spat mentally, frowning deeply. Then he started glancing around the small dale the men were in. '_Where are their horses? Those men can't hope to drag that boar all…that…far_.'

Robb's thoughts petered out as he glimpsed something on the other side of the dale. The trees and forest were thinner over there. Not because of the terrain or new growth, but because of what looked to be a very large and newly made clearing. Smoke still hung heavy in the air and now he could finally see the blackened and burnt trees and foliage, thick ash covering the ground like a layer of fresh snow. Shining through the new openings of the canopy, a distinctive gleam of a literal _wall of metal_ could be easily seen in the midst of that fire-charred clearing. And between the gleaming metal structure and the trees was a much larger host of men, easily more than a hundred that Robb could see.

"What do you think, Lord Stark?" Jory asked quietly from the other side of father.

"Hm…" Father hummed softly, his eyes darting from the two white-armored knights butchering the boar to the large metal structure beyond the trees.

"It looks like an invasion force," Rodrik Forrester said quietly from nearby, earning Robb's attention. Looking over at the young lord, Robb could see that a large amount of the guardsmen had quietly joined them up on the hilltop. "See? There's the ship they left on the beach and now the army's moving out in all directions, hunting for the larders and getting the lay of the land."

"You brainless oaf," Gryff Whitehill shot back in a disturbingly loud and mocking tone. "That ain't a _ship_ and _this_ ain't the beach!"

"_Quiet!_" more than one man hissed, having seen the two white knights below jolt and start looking about.

But it was too late! One of the strange knights looked towards the hill and spotted the collection of guardsmen huddled lowly along its crest among the foliage and bushes. Immediately, the man jumped to his feet and pulled out the black thing that he wore at his side. His partner was just a moment behind him, standing and sliding into a kneeling position as he too pulled out his weapon.

"_Contact!_" the knight who'd spotted them shouted. His voice was strange, muffled and distorted with some kind of clicking noise before and after he spoke. But Robb wasn't given the chance to really think about that oddity as the knight continued speaking. "_I say again! Contact! Locals along the east flank! 100 meters from the __**Chimaera**__!_"

Movement behind the men caught Robb's eye. Somehow, despite the knight not having yelled nearly loud out, there was a sudden flurry of activity from the clearing. He could see more armored knights and even a few men dressed in fancy tunics running around in seemingly the general direction towards them.

"So much for discretion," Helman Tallhart muttered quietly.

Jory and father shared a look before guard captain stood to his feet, hand on his sword and a shield on his arm. Climbing over the fallen tree, he called out, "Peace! Peace! Who are you, men?"

"_Halt!_" the two knights demanded in commanding tones. "_Don't move, savage!_"

Robb's frown deepened. These men were clearly being _very_ hostile, but why? Jory seemed to pick up on this too as his approach slowed. But he didn't stop. "I ask again, men! Who are you? Why are you here?"

"_I said __**halt**__!_" the same knight shot back in an even more threatening tone. Hefting up his weapon more securely against his shoulder. The way he was holding it reminded Robb strongly of a crossbow. But this weapon didn't have the bow arms or even a bowstring. Curious. "_This entire area is __**restricted**__!_"

"Restricted?" Jory repeated, finally coming to a halt out of confusion. Robb couldn't see his face, but he'd be willing to bet that his brow was quirked. "What are you talking about? This is the wolfswood, part of the lands of—"

"_It belongs to the Empire now!_" the second knight interrupted. Then the man glanced to his partner. "_ST-773, orders just came in. Engage and detain. We need some __**workers**_." The implication of what 'workers' meant was lost on none of the watching and eavesdropping northerners.

"_Roger!_" The two men raised the ends of their weapons and squeezed the small triggers.

In a burst of loud noise, a short bolt of red lightning emerged from both weapons and rapidly rushed towards Jory. In a display of remarkable reflexes, Jory was able to bring up his shield into a protective posture over his torso while crouching down. But despite his fast reflexes, when the two red lightning bolts struck his shield, the power behind them was enough to knock the young man back and off his feet with a cry of pain. Robb had just enough time to see two red-hot glowing spots on the metal of Jory's shield before the two knights began blasting more of the bolts up towards the top of the hill.

"Jory!" someone yelled, maybe himself, as fear began to consume the armsmen. Robb kept his head low as he glanced over the tree towards the captain of the guard. The man was still moving, but moaning in pain and disorientation. A red bolt struck the tree barely a hand's length away from where Robb's face, sending up a burst of sparks, fire, and wooden shrapnel. Thankfully, Robb wasn't hurt, but he was startled enough to jerk his head back down and hide for a moment. In doing so, he made sure to unsheathe his sword and pull his shield up his arm.

Glancing around, he saw some of the armsmen already fleeing back down the hill and towards their waiting horses. As much as he wanted to curse the men for their cowardice, Robb couldn't really blame them. Looking around, he felt no small amount of relief as he spotted his father nearby, as well as Jon. "We're up against sorcerers! Aren't we?!"

"It would appear so," father answered, glaring over the tree briefly before suddenly pulling his head down as several red bolts shooting through where he'd been moments ago.

"Let's see if they bleed like normal men!" Theon shouted from the side with an arrow already notched on his bow. Thanks to him being somewhat hidden behind a standing tree, he went unnoticed by the two attacking knights until it was too late. Theon had always been an expert marksman with a bow, and he proved that yet again as his arrow lodged itself into one of the knight's unarmored necks.

The man went down with a gurgled cry, dropping his weapon as one of his hands went to his wound. The unexpected attack caught the second knight by surprise as demonstrated when he looked sharply down at his partner. Whatever the man was thinking would never be known as Theon quickly put an arrow into him as well, not missing such a good opening.

"Jory!" his father called out as he jumped over the tree to rush to his man. Robb was quickly after his father, keeping his shield up as he watched the trees further beyond the dale. What had happened to those other white knights he'd glimpsed over there a moment ago? His father paid that no mind as he helped Jory sit up and began examining his wounds. Thankfully, the man didn't seem too hurt, just winded from his fall and his shield arm was slightly burned from where one of the red bolts had struck and partially melted the metal of the shield.

"L-Lord Stark, those l-lightning bolts are _dangerous_," Jory reported, still wheezing slightly. "We need plate-armored men."

"Aye," father acknowledged, grabbing Jory by his upper arm and helping him to his feet. "But first, we need to fallback and regroup our men."

"Lord Stark, do you hear that?!" Jon called from where he stood upon the fallen tree. He must've been using the elevation to try and see more of what's going on.

Falling silent, the three men listened carefully. Aside from the clamor of the men trying to run away, the normal forest sounds had been sharply muted the closer they'd gotten to this burnt-out portion of the woodland. So, the loud clanging and thumping noises from further ahead, as well as some loud and fast-moving buzzing noises, were clearly audible. Looking off in the direction that the noise was emanating from, Robb and the others all gawked openly for a moment at what they saw. Several metal carriages shaped vaguely like wheelhouses that were floating above the ground and didn't seem to need any beast of burden to pull them that dozens of men disgorged from quickly. A large, metallic monstrosity that seemed to only have a large blocky head and two spindly legs marching through the woodlands at speeds greater than what any horse could run at. But that monster's speed didn't even compare to the metallic constructs that more of the white knights were riding on, zipping and dashing through the trees so fast that they seemed like buzzing arrows.

"By the gods," Robb breathed out, gripping his sword and shield tighter.

"What manner of men are we dealing with here?" Jon said, echoing his own thoughts.

That was when the large metal monster began shooting even larger red bolts towards the panicking horses and armsmen. The first impact of those large bolts that occurred amongst the grouping of men and beast told Robb _exactly_ how dangerous those things were. Men and horse alike went flying through the air, misshapen and burnt from the fire and the force of the blasts. Some men got struck full on by those bolts and fell to the ground, instantly dead.

"Form up!" his father bellowed, his commanding voice somehow carrying over the din of the explosions and panicking man and beast. "Everyone form up!" His father blazed back down the hill, sword drawn and shield raised with his sons right behind him.

Eddard grimly made sure to keep his two sons firmly within his view. This would be their first true battle with a very real chance of death. Hopefully, his sons would learn some valuable lessons from this conflict. But he quickly shoved those idle thoughts aside as he refocused his attention on leading and defending his men and sons.

* * *

**Ten minutes later…**

What followed was perhaps the most bizarre battle that had ever occurred in Westerosi history. Wait, no, calling it a 'battle' would be a misrepresentation of what it actually was. Battles and even skirmishes were fought with at least two opposing sides in a conflict where each possess its own unique strengths, with a goal in mind, likely sharing losses on both sides, which each side having a moderately fair chance of victory over the other. It would've been more appropriate to call the ensuing chaos a complete defeat. The white armored knights and their fine-clothed companions greatly outnumbered the northerners by at least three to one, all of them wielding weapons that shot red bolts of death. In short order, the invaders had utterly encircled the northerners.

Any of the armsmen who'd been able to mount a horse and tried to flee were quickly and easily outpaced by the far, _far_ faster devices that were zipping through woodlands around them. Any man who tried to charge forward and engage the knights in close combat were quickly shot by numerous red bolts and dropped dead before he even came close to them. And none of the opposing knights tried to close the distance either, apparently content to hide behind trees and rocks and shoot their magic from afar, like cowards. This cowardice _really_ angered Robb as it went against so many customs and beliefs that he grew up with. Warriors and knights were meant to fight one another face to face as equals on the battlefield! Those who avoided that, that preferred to snipe and kill their enemies from afar by preference were dishonorable. Yes, archers and long-ranged warfare were a part of every battle, but in a situation and with terrain like this?!

Despite his anger, Robb had seen what was happening around him. These knights were trying to thin the herd, weeding out those too aggressive or stupid. But at the same time, Robb also realized that for as many of the knights as there were, they didn't seem to bother being all that accurate with their shots. One bolt in the right place could kill a man and these knights outnumbered them greatly, so why weren't there more dead bannermen?

'_We need some workers_.' Eyes widening as he suddenly struck by inspiration, Robb dropped his shield and sheathed his sword. "_Stand down! Everyone! __**Stand down**__!_"

Father looked sharply over at him before hurriedly raising his shield and protecting himself from yet another bolt that had been fired at him. "What're you thinking, Robb?"

"They want us as prisoners!" Robb yelled out, speaking more to the surrounding men than his father at this point. "If we surrender, they might just take us captive without killing us!"

"Weapons down!" Jon yelled agreeably from where he was standing, likely already picking up on Robb's thought process. "Weapons down!"

After that, it was a tense and humiliating ordeal. Upon seeing the northerners dropping their weapons, the knights went about collecting them and marshalling the northerners into a column, marching them through the woodlands. Apparently, the knights must've picked up on the fact that father and he were important as they'd made sure lock their hands with some strangely shaped but very strong shackles, pulling them out of the column.

Finally breaking through the trees and into the blinding sunlight overhead, Robb, Theon, Lord Stark, and all of the other northerners were able to fully see the monstrously sized structure in its entirety. The structure was clearly heavily damaged, charred black and warped in places along its metallic walls. It looked like it was shaped in the general design of a spearhead, resting heavily at an angle to one side. Robb couldn't quite see the castle-like portion that he'd glimpsed days ago when it fell from the sky, but he could definitely tell that a large portion of it had been broken off and smashed when it impacted. The front portion of the structure was also smashed and shattered, great gashes and tears in the metal running along it's length. Underneath the upraised portion of the structure's belly, he could see a large hole that led to the interior of it. There also seemed to be some crude ladders and ramps leading up to that hole, which had even more of the knights were descending down from.

There was a path from those ramps off to the side where a large clearing had been cut and burned clear from the woodlands near the large opening of the structure. In this massive clearing, there was a massive collection of containers, barrels, and boxes were stacked in a haphazard manner with a large number of buildings with a low wall encircling them and being patrolled by guards. The buildings were all of near-identical architecture that looked like absolutely nothing that could be made by man. And in one very large area, there were some especially strange metal structures. Some of them looked like those floating carriages from the forest. But the largest of those metal structures were the seven strange things nestled around the large stockpile. They were vaguely shaped like a bird, complete with large wing-like limbs folded upwards, head-like sections protruding forwards, and beak-like ramps that were lowered to the ground with many of the men loading the large containers inside. Robb could also see about two more of those spindly-legged walking things which were pacing around the woodlands outside the walled area. And it was an area that Robb and his father just so happened to be being taken.

But the thing that caught his attention the most were the bodies. The entire ground surrounding the massive structure was positively covered in many thousands, if not literally _tens of thousands_, of dead bodies stacked and tossed into large piles everywhere! Most of the bodies were of men who wore the fine tunic uniforms with a comparatively smaller number of the dead men in armor. Now that he had a chance to really take in the uniforms, most of the tunic-clad men wore identical clothing like their armored compatriots, though the colors shifted from cream to white to gray to black for seemingly no reason that Robb could discern. Sadly, these bodies were pretty old, easily more than 10 days. He could tell because the smell of death hung heavily in the air with clouds of flies and crows were having a great feast on all of the rotting flesh. The sight was so gruesome and unexpected that Robb actually came to a stop as he stared, gawking in horror, disgust, and confusion at everything he was seeing.

"_Keep moving!_" the knight behind him barked, pushing Robb forward roughly and nearly sending him to the ground. Despite stumbling, Robb managed to catch himself, shooting the man a dark look. But he was quickly forced to look away as the knight levelled his weapon upon him threateningly.

Scowling darkly, Robb nonetheless turned and kept walking forward, carefully stepping over the many bodies. It seemed that the survivors of the crash had been more focused on clearing out their many dead from the metal fortress rather than trying to bury or burn them or whatever they did with their dead. And given the increasing numbers that he could see as he and his father were wading through, they'd been doing this for a while. Off to the side, Robb could see that the other northerners were being led towards the big hole in the castle. '_They must really want to put us to work right away_,' Robb couldn't help thinking bitterly.

He caught his lord father's gaze for a moment. Much to Robb's surprise though, his father didn't seem nearly as upset as he might've thought he'd be. His father glanced upwards in a beckoning gesture before returning his attention to his footing. Curious, Robb glanced upwards as discreetly as he could. Looking around carefully, he finally noticed something…out of place. Focusing in on it, he saw that it was a small patch of color that didn't belong there. A splash of orange hidden within the grey and black shadows of a metal tower of some kind.

That's when he suddenly felt his body shiver and tingle. '_The wolfsblood! Again?!_' Robb realized before he sharpened his gaze further, gazing searchingly at that splash of orange. Then, to his surprise and confusion, the patch of orange shifted and moved, drawing deeper into the darkness. '_What's going on up there?_' He wasn't given long to think on it as his attention was soon brought back to the present.

"And just who are _you_?" a snide voice demanded as Robb and Eddard were pulled to a halt. The man before them had a contemptuous look on his pale face, dark eyes gazing uninterestedly out from under a small cap that was nestled snugly upon his very close-cut hair. The uniform the man wore consisted of a double-breasted tunic with a round collar and matching trousers, a pair of black boots, and thick black leather belt. There was some kind of decoration hanging over the man's left breast, but Robb had no idea of its significance.

Rather than waiting for either Eddard or Robb to answer, the man shot the two knights behind them a displeased look. "Sergeant, _why_ have you brought a couple of brainless savages to me? Put them to work_ with the rest!_"

"_Sorry, sir_," the knight behind Eddard answered instantly. "_But these two seemed to be the leaders of the horde who attacked us!_"

"Attacked you?!" Robb couldn't stop himself from repeating in sheer disbelief. "_You_ attacked _us!_"

"_Quiet, brat!_" the other knight snapped as he hit Robb in the back of his head with the butt of his weapon. In a daze of pain, Robb collapsed to his knees. Thankfully, he managed to salvage a small shred of his pride and not try to reach up for his throbbing head.

"Enough, Private," the leader said dismissively, gazing at the knight sternly before shifting a condescending glance upon Robb's kneeling form. After a moment, he looked back up to meet Eddard's cold and angry gaze with an equally cold one. "I am Lieutenant Geralt Syn of the Galactic Empire, and presently the highest-ranking Imperial officer of this ship, the _Chimaera_. Who are you?"

'_Ship?!_' both Starks echoed in their minds, looking up at the metal monstrosity momentarily. But Eddard quickly shook his erratic thoughts free and answered with all the solemn dignity he could muster. "I am Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Why have—?"

"Warden of the North?" Syn interrupted, his previously condescending expression changing slightly into something a bit more dangerous as his interest was piqued. "I take that to mean that you rule these lands then?"

"In the name of the King, yes," Eddard answered slowly, his gaze narrowing as he quickly literally saw the strange man's thought processes. He had the look of a man who'd just discovered a cache of gold dragons hidden among random junk. And, judging from the way his eyes started bouncing between him and son, Eddard could see that he'd also made the familial connection between them as well. Rather than let the man finish his thoughts, Eddard continued his earlier question, "Why have you invaded the North?"

Snorting as a superior grin spread across his thin face. He didn't answer immediately, instead moving over to one of the crates and reaching into it. "Ahh, but we haven't invaded. Upon our arrival, we have laid claim to all of these lands in the name of the Galactic Empire. You should be overjoyed, Mr. Stark. Once the rest of our forces arrive, the Empire shall finally bring some _much_-needed civilization and industry to this worthless planet of yours."

By the time he'd finished speaking, he'd found what he was searching for in the crate and handed it over to one of the armored knights. The knight apparently knew what to do with it as he immediately knelt down next to Robb. It took just a moment before the knight stood up, pulling Robb to his feet with him. Though they weren't sure exactly what it did, both Starks knew a slave collar when they saw one. Eddard quickly forced himself to shift his attention back onto the officer in front of him with an angry scowl. "The North has only knelt to the Targaryeons after they'd promised us our freedom, peace, and unity. You come to us with fire and sorcery while promising only to steal our homes and enslave my people against our wills. We will _**never**_ kneel to you."

"Unfortunately for you," Lieutenant Syn countered as he plucked something from one of the pouches on his belt and held it out, letting both of them see what it was. Some kind of strange metallic device the general shape of a dagger hilt with some kind of glowing red crystal on the top. Syn ran his thumb lightly atop the red crystal as he continued, "Your compliance is not required."

The moment that Syn pressed that crystal down Robb let loose a loud, pained yell. Eddard's eyes instantly shot to his son and spotted something bewildering and horrific. Blue crystals shining like stars from the collar that Robb had been shackled with were surging with lightning springing out them, lancing and dancing about the iron mail he wore as his body was covered in it. Robb was understandably screaming in agony as the lightning coursed over and through his body mercilessly. With a cry of distress, Eddard reflexively lunged forward to try and pry the accursed thing off his son. But with his hands shackled, it was embarrassingly easy for the knight behind him to kick his knees out from behind him and hold him in pace. Despite struggling with all of his considerable might, Eddard was forced to watch as his son was tortured before his eyes. After only a few moments, though they seemed far longer than that, the lights of the crystals on the collar died down and the lightning vanished. Robb collapsed limply to the ground, convulsing slightly from random jolts as he moaned in pain.

"And _that_ is only a small taste of what _disobedience_ to your new Empire will afford you," Lieutenant Syn stated, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he saw Eddard shoot him a truly murderous glare. "And don't think that we'll only to have this boy wear that. _All of you_ will be outfitted with shock collars. So, you really only have two choices, Mr. Stark: submit or die." Turning his attention back to the two knights behind the captive Starks, Syn said, "Take them back to the rest of the prisoners. I'm sure the 'Warden' will be informing our new subjects shortly of the consequences of disobedience."

"_Yes, sir!_" both knights answered immediately.

Despite still moaning in pain, Robb was able to keep his feet under him as the pair of them were pulled roughly back upright and pushed towards where the mass of captive men were being held. But Eddard had most of his attention on his son, staring at him from the corner of his eye. "You okay, son?"

"Y-Yeah," the boy stammered out, pain still evident in his voice. "But it…leaves a burn…in the body…"

'_Yes, they don't want their slaves too badly injured or they can't work as well_,' Eddard realized bitterly. It was then that both father and son felt that familiar tingling sensation course through their bodies, but stronger this time. There was a feeling of…anticipation in the air. '_Something's…about to happen_.'

This time, because the feeling was so strong, they could actually get a general sense of where it was coming from. As the two knights behind them shoved them onwards once again, they both shot inquisitive stares over towards the large stockpile of crates and supplies several hundred meters away. Whatever they were feeling now was coming from over there. But what was—?

Like a flash of lightning shooting through the sky, a powerful force of fire, smoke, and noise burst to life among those crates. So loud, so bright, and so fast were these forces that the hundred or so knights and Imperial armsmen surrounding and guarding it were completely consumed by it within an instant, disappearing from sight amongst the fiery maelstrom. The two knights behind Eddard and Robb were both knocked off their feet as a powerful but invisible force washed over the group. Eddard and Robb only managed to remain standing simply because they'd been somewhat prepared for _something_ to happen.

As the noise level died down, alarms and chaos started to spread among the Imperials. To their credit, Eddard would admit that they were quite well-trained, with the knights immediately drawing their weapons and turning towards or rushing for the explosion. The other armsmen hurried into defensive groups as they scanned the trees for any attackers. As that was happening, a tower hanging from the belly of the metal monstrosity suddenly turned and started raining massive bolts of red lightning down upon the Imperials. Specifically, the tower was clearly targeting the large bird-like structures, blowing them into piles of burning metal swiftly, before swiveling towards the three approaching spindly-legged walkers and the floating carriages.

As this unexpected attack was going on, the captive northerners saw their chance and pounced on it mercilessly. They bodily tackled their nearest captors, stealing back their weapons or grabbing the Imperials' weapons. Robb and Eddard did much the same thing. Robb spun and kicked the knight behind him, knocking him to the ground and began trying to punch and hammer the man senseless. A feat that was rather hard to do, given his helmet. By contrast, Eddard had lunged forward and grabbed his captor around the neck, quickly snapping it before the man could retaliate. Dropping the knight, Eddard turned just in time to see Robb knocked off the knight as the man recovered from his surprise. Before the knight could act further, however, Eddard was there. One strong kick to the man's throat put him down for good. Rolling across the ground, Robb froze up momentarily as he saw what his father had done and couldn't stop from watching as the man gagged and suffocated to death from the injury.

Eddard didn't idle, instead he crouched down and grabbed at the knights' strange weapons. Remembering how they'd held them, it didn't take him long to figure out that squeezing the small lever caused a red bolt to fire out. Taking the awkward object, he grabbed his son by his shoulder as he yelled out over the din, "Robb! Wake up! We're in battle now!"

"R-Right!" Robb stammered out, forcefully shaking himself of the fear he was feeling, pushing it down and trying his best to ignore it.

Holding up the strange weapon, Eddard angled it as he placed the center point of his son's shackles over the muzzle. "This might hurt! Brace yourself!" A split second later, with a loud cry of tortured steel, Robb's shackles broke apart. Despite crying out slightly in fright and surprise, Robb quickly recovered and repeated the gesture for Eddard.

"_Hold it right there!_" a harsh voice yelled from nearby, causing father and son to freeze up as they glanced to the side. A trio of tunic soldiers stood there, weapons out and with grim disgust on their faces.

Before either Stark could reply or act, an explosion went off nearby. The sudden noise and force cause everyone to crouch down and jostle in surprise. Eddard saw his chance and instantly leapt forward before the soldiers could recollect themselves. Springing forward, he swept his arms to the side and landed a pair of lariats to the throats of two of them. Both of them went down hard, not dead or gagging but certainly out of the fight. As the third soldier was recoiling, clearly taken by surprise at Lord Stark's speed and struggling to bring his weapon to bear, Robb brought up the weapon he still held and squeezed the trigger. A red bolt shot out and struck the man full on in his torso. He dropped dead to the ground like a sack of wheat.

For just a second, Robb stared at what he'd done with wide eyes. But after a split moment, his eyes met Eddard's and his father nodded with grim approval and support. That small acknowledge from the man he so looked up to all his life was all Robb needed to really start collecting himself. So, with a determined frown, he moved forward to join his father as he rushed back to rejoin the northern forces.

* * *

"What's going on?!" Lieutenant Syn was yelling into his comm. "Who's in control of that cannon turret?! Shut it down this instant!"

"_Sir, this is RG-331!_" a stormtrooper voice answered. "_I have eyes on the turret! It's the—ARGH~__**zzzckt!**_" The voice was abruptly silenced as the turret's latest blast blew apart the last scout walker.

"Dammit," Syn cursed heatedly to himself before yelling into his comlink. "_WILL __**SOMEONE**__ SHUT THAT TURRET __**DOWN!**__ WE __**CAN'T**__ LOSE ANYMORE __**SUPPLIES!**_"

"_Lieutenant! The savages are rising up!_" another voice cried out. "_They're fighting back!_"

"Blast it all," Syn snarled. "Fine! Kill them all! We don't need them!"

The Lieutenant was nestled in the makeshift command center that the Imperial survivors had built upon their arrival here. As he'd told the barbarian earlier, he was the only officer of any rank presently still present on the crash site. Given the terribly wretched state that the Star Destroyer presently was in, the Grand Admiral had decided that they needed a more secure base of operations for their stay on this backwater world. The Admiral had taken the most elite troopers and surviving officers with him as they went off to seize a structure worthy of the Empire. And Lieutenant Syn had been put in charge and made responsible for safeguarding the precious supplies. Supplies that included explosives, basic engineering and mechanical equipment, field medpacks and medicine, food rations, fuel and power packs, and the few operable vehicles that'd survived the impact. He was responsible for leading the 5,200 surviving Imperials that remained on this site with protecting, loading, and transporting all of that to the new base of operations that'd been chosen. If he failed, he knew the Grand Admiral would be quite _displeased_ with him.

Needless the say, the stress of the situation was weighing on him. It was making him irritable and paranoid. There was something _wrong_ with this world. There was something _evil_ lurking in those woodlands that encircled them. And he was frantic to depart these accursed and frigid lands as quickly as possible. He wouldn't feel safe until he was back in hyperspace and _parsecs_ away from this planet! Now, if only the ignorant savages that occupied this world would cooperate with his efforts of accelerating their departure!

Outside the little command center, Syn could hear the din of the escalating chaos. The cracks and bolts of blasterfire, the quiet explosions of grenades, the roar of the savages as they fought back, the ponderous puffs as the turret overhead continued firing upon the Imperials, and the clamor and cries of men dying. How he wished he had a functioning holo-display so that he could monitor and more easily control the flow of battle! Fighting blind like this was annoying and jarring for a man who was accustomed to the luxuries of modern warfare.

"_This is LT-7734!_" a voice called out over the comlink racket of the other troopers who were asking and barking orders. "_Targeting the turret! Scatter and take cover!_"

A few seconds later, the familiar shrieking cry of a missile being fired and flying through the air pierced over the battlefield. For just those precious seconds, the firefight and melee that had started came to a brief end as everyone looked upwards. Lieutenant Syn himself hurriedly left the command center to watch, catching the tail end of the rocket's journey as it arced unerringly towards the rogue turret. But just before the impact, he glimpsed something leaping away from behind it. The rocket impacted the turret, which instantly erupted into a conflagration of fire and debris. But what he and many others watched was the descending humanoid figure that had escaped the destruction. Impossibly, as the orange-clad figure held out his hand towards the rapidly approaching ground, it's fall slowed tremendously. It was when he saw the shining blue blade of a lightsaber springing to life in the figure's other hand that Syn realized just what and who that person was.

"It's the Jedi!" someone yelled. "Fire! Fire on the primary target!"

Almost immediately, all nearby Imperial forces raised their blasters towards the traitor and tried to open fire. However, the Jedi proved too fast and too skilled, dancing and bouncing about he did dodged or deflected the blasterfire. Not to be outdone, the savages saw the opportunity with the troopers all being distracted by the Jedi and immediately renewed their melee.

"_**Will someone just kill the Jedi already?!**_" Syn yelled into his comlink, glaring hatefully over at the Empire's nemesis. "_150,000 credits to the man who kills the Jedi!_"

"Sir?" a random voice from nearby called. "SIR?!"

"WHAT?!" Syn yelled, not taking his gaze off the Jedi. Too busy glaring hatefully as the Jedi continued to somehow live and fight back. '_Why can't he just __**DIE**__ already?!_'

"Do you hear that?!" the same voice called. "Something's coming!"

"Wh-What?!" Prying his eyes off the Jedi, Syn glared over at the techie who'd spoken. "What are you talking about?!"

The techie didn't need to explain. For at the very next instant, a deep horn sounded from off to the side as the thunder of hooves filled the air. Looking over to the source of the noise, Syn and every Imperial present gasped in surprise at what they saw. Armored cavalry and men charging forward along the length of the destroyed section of woodlands behind the Star Destroyer, aiming straight for the battle site with spears and lances down and at the ready, or with swords or hammers or axes drawn. Fluttering proudly and most prominently overhead of the cavalry and worn upon numerous members of the soldiers was a banner of a silver fist on a field of red. What that sigil meant, Syn didn't know. But he could see that they were only a few hundred meters away and closing fast! How did they manage to close so quickly? And where'd they come from to begin with?!

The savages in the melee let out a deafening cheer as their fighting spirits were reinvigorated. Due to this renewal of spirit, they lashed out with almost reckless abandon, forcing the Imperials nearby to have to focus their attentions on the more immediate threats rather than bringing their fire down upon the beasts that were rushing them. Syn could only watch in horror as the cavalry _smashed_ into his forces, trampling or cutting down his troopers with surprising precision.

"This isn't possible!" Syn stated in disbelief. "How can such an archaic thing as a _cavalry charge_ break the _Empire?!_" It didn't make sense! It broke so many conventions of modern warfare and battle that he'd grown up learning. Cavalry hadn't been used by the wider galaxy for at least 20,000 years or more! They had elevated themselves far beyond that point. That charge should've been blown to pieces within just a few moments of it starting! Why…? How…?! IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!

Too late did Syn realize that he'd left himself exposed and vulnerable as he watched the battle swing to favor the savages. The cavalry were circling around, breaking into smaller units. Some had continued onwards and were aiming for the Imperial camp. Numerous others were wheeling around to return to the melee. And other still were circling around to fire arrows from horseback into the melee, picking off any troopers who were trying to coordinate into a firing squad. It was absolute mayhem that the Imperials were rapidly being overrun by. In fact, he could even see many of the troopers starting to drop their blasters and fall to their knees in surrender! '_TREACHEROUS __**COWARDS**__!_'

But the thing that _really_ drew his attention was the sight of the Jedi leaping through the air, arcing towards _him_ with his lightsaber at the ready! With a loud cry, Syn grabbed his pistol and opened fire on the descending traitor. Somehow, the Jedi was able to angle his blade just enough to not only deflect but _reflect_ the blasterbolt straight back at him. Syn couldn't react fast enough to dodge as his own shot hit his blaster pistol just above his hand. The force of the impact knocked the weapon from his hand and the superheated plasma of the shot momentarily scorched the top of his hand, causing him to cry out in pain as he stumbled back.

He managed to recollect himself just in time to see the Jedi land before him, blade point dangerously close to his chin. Looking down the length of the blade as he tried to back away, he was finally able to see the Jedi's features. It was a young man, scarcely older than 18, with very short hair that was so dark it almost looked blue in the sunlight. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he glared at Syn.

"Hello, Lieutenant," the Jedi said almost pleasantly. "You've got two choices right now. One: call off your men and surrender. Or two: fight to the end and die. I would recommend the first choice because I'm pretty sure the natives here will be pretty likely to want to kill all of you the longer you fight."

"The Empire—!"

"—Is _not **here!**_" the Jedi interrupted, bringing the tip of his saber to within just a few scant hairs' length away from his jaw. "_They_ can't save you and your men. Only _you_ can do that. Do you really want to _die_ here and now?"

For several long moments, Syn just faltered hesitantly in his decision. His academy training was _**screaming**_ at him to _continue the fight_, to _kill_ this rebel, to _subjugate_ and _educate_ this backwater planet. But cold logic was whispering treasonous words into his ear. Reminding him of where he was, why he and his forces were likely doomed to die very shortly from now, and the fact that the Grand Admiral was still nearby. That the Grand Admiral would undoubtedly come back for his loyal and surviving men once this disaster reached his ears.

Slowly, awkwardly, Syn brought his comlink to his lips as he continued glaring hatefully at his enemy. "All forces! _Stand down!_ I repeat: _stand down!_ Let the savages have this _small_ victory."

The Jedi immediately withdrew his blade, deactivating it as a small but smug grin slid across his face. "See? Was that so hard?"

Syn didn't bother answering, just snarling as he raised his hands to his head and was guided by the Jedi towards the rest of his surrendering men.

* * *

**Elsewhere nearby…**

"Galbart, I can honestly say I've never been _so happy_ to see you before!" Eddard said in greeting as his vassal lord dismounted from his horse before him.

"Aye, glad I made it in time," Galbart Glover stated evenly as he turned and gave a small bow to his liege lord. "We'd heard strange noises and fighting nearby and followed as best we could. I just wish we'd arrived sooner."

"My lord, we've got a problem here," a bannerman called from nearby.

Turning, the two lords saw what the 'problem' was easily enough. It was the same orange-clad man who'd been responsible for controlling the tower and attacking the knights. The young man was marshaling easily a score of knights towards the rest of the kneeling ones. But what really caught everyone's attention was the glowing blue sword he held in his hand and was pointing warningly at the knights. None of the enemy knights or the young man seemed to pay the staring northerners any mind as the new prisoners joined their companions in kneeling and being disarmed of all weapons and whatever other strange objects and trinkets they possessed.

All except for one man who Eddard recognized instantly as the 'Lieutenant Syn' from earlier. The man was glaring defiantly at Lord Stark as the young man brought him to a halt before him. Then the young man stepped to the side as his strangely humming sword gave off the hiss of quenching steel as the blade seemed to be sucked into the hilt. The young man was grinning good-naturedly at the slightly gawking northern lords as he clipped the hilt upon his belt absentmindedly. "I believe you two have met?"

"Indeed, we have," Lord Stark said, quickly recovering himself and turning a cold gaze upon Syn. "Now, as you and your men are _clearly_ strangers to our Realm, allow me to give a brief explanation of your _crimes_ and what your _punishments_ will likely entail."

"Do as you wish, _savage,"_ Syn snapped angrily. "But I can promise you this. Your 'victory' today will _not_ be repeated. The Empire _will_ come! And you will know the _true_ meaning of _**terror**_ when they do."

"We shall see," Eddard countered softly. Then his gaze shifted to the young man with the glowing sword. "And who are you?"

"Ezra Bridger," the young man stated easily. "And I'm a Jedi Knight."

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heh, you know, I honestly can't believe I didn't try to write something like this sooner. There are some pretty strong similarities between _ASoI&F_ and _Star Wars_, especially their magic systems. Plus, am I the only one who saw the loth-wolves resemblance to the direwolves of the Starks?

Before I go any further, a big time shout-out to **ffdrake** for helping me come up with this concept, as well as helping me to proofread it. Also, here's a little surprise for you all about **ffdrake.** He's actually working on his own _Star Wars_ x _Game of Thrones_ story too! So, if you happen to see any ideas, actions, or themes that are similar between this story and his, that's because we're collaborating with each other as brainstormers and beta-readers.

Also, for those of you who care, I'm basing a large part of this story off of the original books, **_NOT_** the pisspot that is the tv show. Also, I'm going to use **Shadiversity**'s version of Winterfell. It's an incredible and far more logical design of the castle than what's used in the tv show. I definitely recommend you all check out that movie he made! Link is posted below.

www youtube com/watch?v=dZdbpfcxfSk

**Major Character Ages in 295 AC  
**Ezra Bridger: 19

Eddard Stark: 32  
Catelyn Stark: 31  
Jon Snow: 12  
Robb Stark: 12  
Sansa Stark: 9  
Arya Stark: 6  
Brandon Stark: 5  
Rickon Stark: 1 month old

Theon Greyjoy: 15


	2. Tales of Places Far, Far Away

**.**

**The Jedi of the North  
**Written by: Tellemicus Sundance  
Co-Authored by: ffdrake  
_#02: Tales of Places Far, Far Away_

**295 AC  
**_**Chimaera**_**, Wolfswood**

In the future, Jon Snow would look back at this skirmish and grin forlornly at how foolishly idealistic and ignorant he'd been. This was the first _true_ battle he'd ever seen or been part of. The cries of pain, rage, and loss from the men roaring over the crowd in a deafening din. The clamor and clang and impacts of thousands of armored bodies all trying to occupy the same space. The chaotic movements of the knights and soldiers as they jostled about, with the only stillness visible being from those who'd already dropped dead. The flashing of steel, the whizzing bangs of the red lightning bolts, all of it melding into a cacophony of death and terror.

And Jon had _never_ been so terrified in all of his life. But he wasn't given the chance to think about his fear. He had only enough time to act on his training-induced instincts. Jon's wolfsblood was also positively _roaring_ in his ears. His whole body was trembling with energy and impulse. He wasn't sure how he got his hands on a sword, and he didn't have time to ponder it either. He just acted and reacted as needed.

His smaller stature was both an advantage and disadvantage in this chaotic melee. The advantage was that he could more easily sneak up on and attack any of the white knights or enemy combatants since his small, slightly crouched body was somewhat out of most men's line of sight. And all of the chaos surrounding them only aided in Jon's movement to drift about. But his small size and weak body strength also meant that he had a harder time traversing the area, having to dodge around one Cerwyn armsman choking one of the tunic-clad soldiers with one arm while bashing another's head in with a warhammer, only to frantically duck under the death bolts of a white knight as he was targeting a Forrester man, and then dodging around a Tallhart man as that same knight started to shoot towards him. All in an effort to reach his own target, a particularly large white knight who wore an orange pauldron over his right shoulder and seemed to be commanding the men around him more efficiently.

"_GH-444, concentrate fire on the right flank!_" the obvious knight leader was yelling. "_LT-7734, target the turret! AA-295 and DQ-311, protect LT-7734!_"

With a cry, Jon sprung up from his partial hiding place behind a tree stump and brought his sword down in an arc. The leader had just enough time to turn towards Jon and bring his weapon up in an automatic defensive stance before the blade hit. The metal of the sword bit deeply and sheared partially through the black weapon the leader was holding. As Jon quickly withdrew his sword, he saw something sparking and glowing inside the damaged portion of the weapon. But he didn't get much more than a glimpse as the knight leader brought the point of his weapon down towards Jon, already squeezing the small trigger. But instead of the red bolt that Jon was already in the process of dodging around, a small burst of fire ignited from the damaged portion and blew apart the weapon in the man's hands. The leader went down with a pained scream, his hands reduced blackened and bleeding stumps. A strong spike of pity shot through Jon as he felt the man's pain and agony. That sense of pity he felt caused Jon to jump forward and swing his sword again as hard as he could, hacking the man's helmeted head off his body.

"_Lieutenant!_" a voice yelled from the group, having witnessed their leader's death. "_Argh! __**Damn you**__, you little __**brat!**_"

Unfortunately for Jon, he was still recovering from the recoil of his swing, falling over in a heap on the ground. How did his father make cutting off men's heads look so easy?! But he didn't have time to dwell on that thought. His wolfsblood screamed out a warning to him, causing him to roll to the side. This roll of his caused him to accidentally slam into the back of the knees of a tunic-clad soldier, making him loose his balance and topple backwards over Jon. In doing so, he ended up taking the three shots meant for Jon. Before the knight who fired at him could adjust his aim, an arrow suddenly buried itself into his face, smashing through darkened glass. He fell to the ground instantly dead.

"_Haha!_" the annoyingly familiar voice of Theon called out. "You're welcome, _bastard!_"

Scowling as he pushed himself out from under the dead man, Jon shot back to his feet and drew up his sword. As he was looking around for another enemy to kill, a loud shrieking cry suddenly pierced through the din of combat. On impulse, Jon turned in search of whatever was causing the horrid noise. It didn't take long to figure out what had essentially happened. One of the white knights from the group of the leader he'd killed had seemingly launched some type of strange spear. A blaze of powerful flames were propelling the thick spear upwards, heading unerringly towards the strange tower that was raining death magic down on the knights.

As he watched the spear closing in on it, Jon felt a powerful pulse of something echo through his wolfsblood. Just a split moment before the spear hit the tower, an orange figure leapt free of it. Though the powerful explosion kicked up by the spear was impressive, Jon's attention was locked on the man who'd seemingly leapt to his doom. That tower was suspended well over twenty meters in the air, well high enough for any man to die upon impact with the ground below. But Jon felt like he could almost _feel_ the man's emotions and there wasn't a _touch_ of fear in among them at all, only annoyance and a slight amount of pain.

The man grabbed something from his belt with one hand while reaching out towards the ground as he neared it with the other. Jon _felt_ more than _saw_ the pulse of some kind of force emitting from the man's outstretched hand. Impossibly, whatever that force was, his fall towards the ground slowed from what had been a drop to near-certain death to just that of a minor tumble out of a low-hanging tree branch. As this pulse of force was saving his life, a blade of what looked to be blue fire sprung to life in his other hand.

"_Jedi!_" one of the knights yelled in fear and anger. "_IT'S THE __**JEDI**__!_"

"_Fire! Fire!_" another yelled in response.

The 'Jedi' person landed in amongst a gaggle of the white knights. His fire weapon was weaving so fast that it was little more than a blur of blue light among the knights before he'd even fully come to a stop. Jon and the nearby northerners could only stare in shocked awe as the five knights all crumbled to the ground with cries of extreme agony, portions of their armor and bodies glowing red-hot as _pieces of both_ flew off at random angles. Before the knight could do anything else, six more knights and soldiers brought up their lightning weapons and started shooting. The young man remained standing under the direct barrage as he swung and spun his light blade around. Impossibly, when the numerous red bolts of death struck the magic sword, they bounced off and away, repelled somehow. Even more impressively, in Jon's humble opinion, was how each of the different shots were sent back to the original shooters, whether striking them full on or just knocking the dangerous weapons from their hands.

Once the initial volley of attacks had been repelled, the young man took an impossible leap forward. It must've been well over _ten meters_ in distance! He came down with a decisive slash, cutting another pauldron-wearing white knight into two halves from his left shoulder to his right hip. Needless to say, the man died screaming. But just as his fellow knights were turning their weapons upon him, the new fighter brought up his arms up in a sweeping gesture as a powerful wave of wind and energy erupted from him, knocking all of them off their feet.

Standing upright as he held his fire blade aloft, the young man yelled out, "_Fight!_ Fight back! You've almost _won! FIGHT BACK!_"

There was something powerful in his voice. Something reassuring, compelling, and strong. Whatever it was, Jon's fighting spirit was immediately reenergized as he turned and swung his sword at the nearest enemy soldier to him. And he wasn't the only one as the entire surrounding group of northerners around them also found their second wind. The newcomer also put words to action as he immediately rushed forward to engage an especially large group of soldiers, his fire sword once again reflecting and deflecting their incoming bolts before he was lost in the melee.

After cutting down three more men, Jon found himself becoming both surprised and relieved. The fighting spirits of the knights and soldiers was rapidly dwindling with the arrival of the 'Jedi' who was quickly cutting down an impressive amount of them. Not that Jon could really blame them as he glimpsed the man blow away at least ten of them with a powerful blast of what seemed to be wind energy. But the thing that really killed their will to fight was the unexpected arrival of House Glover and their cavalry, which proved to be the decisive final factor to securing the North's victory.

Once the fighting had finally stopped, Jon found himself kneeling down in the cold, muddy earth, leaning heavily upon his sword as he heaved for breath. Only now did he realize just how exhausted and scared he truly was. He couldn't stop himself from thinking back on the fight, seeing all of the possible ways it could've gone wrong, how he could've died. Glancing to the side, he gazed forlornly down at the body of a Whitehill knight, who had three charred and blackened holes punched through the chest of his mail and gambesome armor. '_I'm sorry_,' he couldn't help thinking towards the fallen man morosely.

"You okay there, Snow?" Jory's voice above him asked as the man stepped up to him.

"A-Aye," Jon answered, looking up at the man's blood and mud stained figure.

"Come," Jory said after nodding in acknowledgement. "Your lord father is looking for you."

Quickly using the tunic of the last soldier he'd killed to wipe the blood and mud off the blade of his sword, Jon sheathed it and climbed back to his feet, following after Jory.

* * *

**Hangar bay, **_**Chimaera**_

Lord Eddard Stark was no stranger to public speaking. It came with the duty of being Warden of the North. Plus, he'd also gained a bit of experience rallying his troops during Robert's Rebellion. But despite that experience, public speaking had never been Eddard's strength. He was nicknamed the 'Quiet Wolf' for a reason. And he was now about to put himself out in front of an even larger crowd than usual. By a rough estimate, Eddard could see that he was about to literally lay down the law for upwards of 3,000 men.

But as much as this coming speech was quietly unsettling him, it wasn't what was really starting to unnerve him. No, it was the strange location he was standing upon as well as the peculiar device that Ser Ezra was holding out to him invitingly. The two of them were standing just inside the lip of the massive cavern of the superstructure, below them was the mass of surrendered Imperial soldiers and knights. It was a real chore for the northerners to fully disarm every man of their weapons, gadgets, and armor, simply because of how much they outnumbered them by. It was the work of easily three whole hours for the Imperials to be fully stripped down to just the bare essential clothing of their uniforms. This process really seemed to have bothered the Imperials, most particularly the white knights. Ser Ezra had confided in him quietly that it was standard procedure in the Empire for the 'stormtroopers' to never take off their armor unless they were off-duty and in a secure Imperial location. But now that they had finally finished with that long process, they were awaiting their captor's judgment of their fates.

Reaching out and tentatively taking the strange hilt-shaped device, Eddard looked it over carefully and with no small amount of bewilderment. Looking up at the young knight, he couldn't help voicing his concerns and uncertainty once again. "Are you absolutely certain that they will be able to hear me if I…speak into this thing?" It just didn't make any sense to him. How could such a tiny thing possibly make it so that everyone present would be able to hear him?

"Trust me, Lord Stark," Ser Ezra said with a small smile and a look of understanding on his face. "I know it may seem weird, but it really _can_. And I would explain it to you, but that would take too long. If you're still interested, I can tell you later. Just remember to hold down the buttons that I showed you. The ship will do the rest. Okay?"

Hesitantly, Eddard nodded as he looked back at the device. After a moment, he pressed and held the buttons the young knight had shown him. There was no visible or audible reaction, and that honestly worried him for a moment. So, to ease his worries that the boy wasn't trying to make a fool of him, he reached up and softly tapped the mesh portion over the top of the device. He was trying to evoke some kind of reaction to prove the young man's word. The split second that he started tapping the top, a loud and strange muffled noise echoed out of the cavern around him, surprising him. Looking around for the source of the noise, he accidently stopped his tapping, and the muffled noise stopped too. After a moment, he tapped the mesh again and the noise echoed again.

Looking over at Ser Ezra, he found the young man shooting him a small but knowing grin. "See? I told you the ship would handle the rest."

Despite himself, Eddard nodded in response. '_Well, at least my voice won't be hoarse afterwards_.' Turning back to face the captured soldiers, he quickly fixed his face into a stern and solemn expression. Still feeling awkward, he held the device up close to his mouth as he began to speak.

"_Soldiers of the Empire_," his voice echoed out of the surrounding superstructure like thunder, thousands of times louder than anything he could've possibly managed on his own. Though the Imperials didn't so much as flinch, he saw more than a few of his own bannermen jump in surprise, gawking up at him as if he'd performed some kind of great magical feat. He carefully forced himself to ignore those looks from his bannermen as he continued, "_You have committed several grave crimes upon this land on which you now stand. Poaching within the King's forest. Invasion of our sovereign nation. Inciting conflict by attacking and killing several dozen of my bannermen. And, most grievous of all, the intention to enslave the peoples to your Empire._"

"_By law of the King, the punishment for poaching is that every man responsible for it will be losing one of their hands or being sent to sea as a deckhand chained aboard a vessel for five years_." Eddard noticed more than a few of the soldiers start nervously glancing about and shifting restlessly. It was as if the act of losing one's hand was a foreign concept to them. Indeed, he even noticed that Ser Ezra seemed somewhat surprised and unsettled by that revelation, just from the small glance the young man shot towards him. But Eddard continued on relentlessly. "_The act of invasion and the following loss of life is an act of war. As well as for the __**unforgivable**__ sin of slavery, the punishments for these crimes is execution_."

He paused to really let that thought sink in for these men. After several moments of watching them squirm fretfully, Eddard continued, "_However, we are __**not**__ unmerciful people. We realize that many of you were simply following orders from your lords above you. That is why you are getting a second option to choose from_."

There was an almost palpable wave of tensed relief passing through the crowd. Quite a few of them seemed to have their hopes raised with the thought that they might get a pardon for their wrongdoings. But just as many seemed to realize that the second option would be no less harsh. Nonetheless, Eddard carried on. "_To understand this second option, I will explain to you a small amount of our history. Thousands of years ago, our people battled against a fierce enemy who __**nearly**__ exterminated all man on this land. After we'd won the war and pushed our enemy into the __**far**__ northern lands, we erected a mighty wall of ice to guard the lands south of it against the __**possible **__**return**__ of that enemy. Guarding this wall is the Order of the Night's Watch, a sworn brotherhood. They take oaths of lifelong servitude, vowing to take no lands, father no children, win no glory, and wear no crowns. Their __**only**__ duty is to guard the realms of man. By taking this vow, they are forgiven of any wrongdoing they might have committed in life. __**However**__, if they __**break this vow**__ and __**flee from their post**__ on the Wall, they will be __**hunted down**__ and __**killed**__ without hesitation or mercy. Whether by their former brothers in the Watch or by us northerners_."

A thick and tense silence covered the crowd as they stared up at Eddard. He matched their solemnity with his own. "_Those are your only choices now: execution or the Wall. We will give you all a few moments to consider them_."

Lowering the device stiffly, Eddard turned towards Ser Ezra. Below them, the crowd of captives started quietly talking among themselves, debating their choices. As much as he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, his job was still only half finished. Now he needed to confront the captured Imperial _women_ about what their options were. '_And doesn't __**that**__ boggle the mind? This 'Empire' actually __**allows**__ women to serve in its army and navy forces. Not many, thankfully, but it still allows them_.' As a man of the North, Eddard held less of a patriarchal view on the role women played in society than most other Lords he knew down south. For this Empire to allow women to serve like that must mean that it held a far more equalitarian view towards men and women than six of the Seven Kingdoms did. And he couldn't help but shake his head slightly in rueful amusement as a random thought crossed his mind, '_Arya would probably love that about this empire_.'

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Lord Eddard followed Ser Ezra up the steps of a small podium nearby. As he took his spot in the center, the Warden of the North gazed down at the much smaller group of captured women soldiers. Like their male counterparts outside and below, these women had also been stripped of their armor, weapons, and gadgets. They had been quickly separated into this secondary group and brought up inside this massive 'hangar' (as Ser Ezra called it) for a very good reason.

Unlike with just a few moments ago, Eddard didn't feel the need to use the voice amplifying device. There were just less than fifty surviving women, so his voice alone could carry in this metal cavern well enough to be heard by all. "Women of the Empire, you too stand accused of numerous crimes against the North and Westeros as a whole. But unlike your male counterparts outside, you will be given some very different choices. The Wall and the Night's Watch are exclusive to men. Therefore, these shall be your choices of punishment."

"The first being incarceration at Quiet Isle down in the south," Eddard stated, his face and voice firmly neutral. "There, you will be inducted into the Silent Sisters, a religious sect of the Faith of the Seven. The Silent Sisters take vows of chastity and silence, living a life of piety and prayer while attending to their duties for the dead." Just from a cursory glance, Lord Eddard could already guess that the number of volunteers for this service would be few to none. "It is considered sacrilege to abandon this holy calling once you've been inducted into it. As such, any attempt at escape will be met with _harsh_ punishments, up to and including execution."

"Your second option is to be held as wards across the North," he continued, seeing all of them perk up slightly in interest. "You will be separated and sent to different castles, keeps, holdfasts, or villages. There, so long as you obey the lord's laws, you will be allowed to make a life for yourself. However, should you try to leave without the approval of the local lord or head of house in the area, you will be _hunted down and executed_ on the spot."

"And your third option is exile," he finished grimly. "Exile from the North and all of Westeros. You will be taken to White Harbor and loaded upon a ship bound for one of the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea. Once there, your fates are in your own hands. But be warned; despite being named the 'Free Cities', most of them practice slavery. And they'd not hesitate to make all of you into bed slaves or prostitutes if you were caught." Despite his rather blunt and grim warning, Eddard could see that some of them seemed to be looking a bit interested at the concept of exiling themselves for whatever reason.

"You will have until we depart to make your choices," he concluded.

Once he descended from the podium, only then did he finally let out the sigh of relief. "I hate making speeches."

"But you sure do a good job of grabbing a crowd's attention, ser," Ser Ezra said, grinning goodnaturedly at him.

"I'm not a knight," Lord Eddard stated a bit more harshly than he'd intended. "Don't call me 'ser'."

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" the young man hurriedly replied, holding his hands up in a somewhat comical surrendering fashion. "That's – eh, I guess that's just a difference between our cultures? Where I come from, we always call someone who has a superior rank or higher social status as 'ser' as form of respect. Uh…What _should_ I call you then?"

"Lord Stark will suffice," he answered, his brow quirking slightly at the strange custom of this young knight's people. And because he was looking, he noticed the knight wince ever so slightly. "Is that a problem?"

"No, nonono!" Ser Ezra answered, clearly still feeling a little awkward around Lord Eddard for some reason as he tried to look everywhere but at his searching expression. "I guess that's another difference between us? The only people I've ever had to call 'lord' before were…very _bad_ people." Finally marshalling his courage, the young knight met his gaze as he asked, "Is calling people 'my lord' a common practice here?"

"Only for the _actual_ lords of the land," Eddard said, frowning slightly. While he clearly didn't know the full story behind why Ser Ezra's culture developed like that, there was a certain amount of symbolic symmetry that was starting to rub him the wrong way. The idea of the 'lords' of his lands all being 'very bad' people. It didn't sit well with Eddard.

"Milord," a familiar voice called over from the ramp. Turning, Lord Stark spotted Jory, Robb, and Jon approaching them. As they drew closer, Jory gave a quick salute as he continued speaking, "It's started snowing again. Lightly, but it's snow. I think our departure's going to be delayed a few more days."

"That's unfortunate," Eddard stated, already trying to think of how he and his men would be able to feed, house, and monitor all of these prisoners until they could carry out justice.

"Lord Stark?" Ser Ezra spoke up. "If you need space, you and your men are welcome to campout in here. There's literally _thousands_ of rooms available, including a _very_ large barracks."

"How large are we talking about here?"

"I'd say that at maximum capacity, this ship could easily house upwards of 40,000 men and women," Ezra stated casually, grinning slightly at the gawking northerners' expressions. "Including all of the facilities needed to keep them fed, cleaned, and entertained for long voyages. And the interior layout is pretty simple, so you and your men probably won't get lost unless you go exploring too deeply."

After several moments, Lord Eddard nodded and turned to Jory. "Go inform the men that we'll be spending the night and possibly several days inside here. Also, inform the Lords that I require their presences here as soon as possible. They will accompany us on a tour of this…vessel."

"At once, milord!" Jory saluted again before rushing off to fulfill his new orders.

Turning back to Ezra, Eddard and Jon both turned expectant looks upon him. "You will give us a quick tour of this…ship when the Lords arrive?"

"Of course, Lord Stark!" Ser Ezra chirped up cheerfully.

* * *

**Imperial Conference Room, **_**Chimaera**_

"What kind of magic is this?!" Robb couldn't help asking breathlessly.

He wasn't the only one who was feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. The interior of the superstructure was even larger than he'd first expected. Granted, the innumerable rooms and hallways it held were all of near identical size and shape. But the sheer length of those hallways just boggled the mind. The architecture of the interior was…for lack of a better term, sterile. The drab whites, metallic silver and grays, and highly polished blacks were everywhere, with only occasional splashes of other colors here and there. In the back of his mind, Robb could understand the likely reason for all the white was used, since a little bit of white could really light up an area.

But the thing that was really getting to him was the strange objects that were glowing an unnaturally bright white light from the hallways' ceilings. Well, at least those that weren't shattered and broken. Those objects lit up the interior even more brightly than the sun couldn't on a clear, cloudless day despite there being not a single window in sight! Then there were the doorways that had no visible handles yet opened with the touch of button on the wall. There was the soft brush of warm air coursing through narrow holes along the ceiling of the hallways despite the descending chill outside and no fireplaces or chimneys around. And there was the flying sparks, smell of charred metal and strange chemicals, the stink of blood and death, the flickering of broken light and shattered glass from numerous desks and workstations. All of it just added up to form…he didn't know what, in his mind. Whatever it was, it was overwhelming in its scope and strangeness to his lack of understanding about anything around him.

"I know it may _seem_ magical, but it really isn't," Ser Ezra said in a calm and strangely reassuring voice. He was seated in a rather stiff looking but surprisingly comfortable chair at one end of what Robb would've otherwise called a dining hall or throne room. The room was long and somewhat narrow with a large black-topped table in the center, upwards of a dozen chairs seated around it.

Despite how overwhelming everything around him was, Robb couldn't stop the slight and wondrous chuckle that escaped him when he'd first grasped one of those chairs and pulled it back to take a seat in. rather than it scraping across the perfectly smooth metallic floor, the chair slid out on small wheels that were attached to the legs. That, along with the chair actually turning and spinning in his grasp to face him, caused Robb to gawk in surprise. He'd never heard of such things in a simple chair before and almost immediately he wondered why no one had thought of such a thing before. He could already see the potential benefits of such simple ideas! And what was more surprising was that the black padding in the chairs were very comfortable.

"What is this place?" Lord Whitehill demanded as he and his son took seats around the table as well. "And how did you lot managed to build this fortress so quickly without us finding it sooner?"

"I'm interested in that myself," Lord Forrester said in a calm voice as he and his son took their own seats, well away from the Whitehills. "Nothing about this fortress feels natural."

"We'd _all_ like to know what's going on," Lord Glover stated calmly from where he now sat, looking at the strange knight.

Robb took just a moment to look around the table, identifying each of the lords, most of their heirs, and even couple of their loyal bannerman seated around the table or standing near them. He and his father were seated at one end of the long table with Theon, Jon, Jory Cassel, and Hallis Mollen, standing behind them. Near them were Lords Helman Tallhart, Medger Cerwyn, and Galbart Glover. Seated next his father was Cley Cerwyn with Benfred Tallhart who stood restlessly behind Helman. Robett Glover stood like a silent sentinel behind his brother, hand resting upon his sheathed sword as he watched Ser Ezra. Then there were the Whitehills and Forresters. Thankfully, the two lords seemed to be trying to ignore the existence of the other. Sadly, their sons were shooting angry, challenging glares at one another from across the table. Those were all the high lords of note, but they weren't the only ones present. Though he didn't know them by name, Robb was able to easily identify the banners of Woods, Branch, Bole, and even Lake, probably the northernmost House present and who were sworn to the Umbers. All totaled, there were more than twenty lords and/or heirs present.

From where he was seated, Robb could see that Ser Ezra looked…uncertain. Raising a hand to awkward rub the back of his head, the young knight looked off to the side as he mumbled quietly to himself, "Yeah, where do I even begin? Man, Kanan never prepared me for something like _this_."

"Why don't we start simple?" Lord Eddard suggested, earning the room's attention. "What is this 'Galactic Empire' and why have they attacked us?"

If anything, Ser Ezra looked even more uncertain. But that wasn't the thing that caught Robb's interest. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, but he could…almost feel embarrassment swirling around the young knight like a heavy perfume. "That's…a bit of a tale to tell."

"We're not going anywhere until the snow stops," Lord Glover pointed out. "We've got the time."

"Hm, very well," Ezra said, letting out a heavy sigh of resignation. "But you'll likely never see things quite the same way again once we're done. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Tell us already, brat!" Lord Whitehill snapped, glaring sternly over at him.

"Fine, fine!" Ezra answered quickly, holding up his hand in a surrendering gesture. He looked down at the table and grabbed a small book-shape object that was resting nearby. Picking it up, he spent a few moments tapping it as he said, "This is long tale to tell, so I'm going to try to condense it down greatly. And it'd be easier for me to show you some of this stuff rather than tell you. So, despite what's going to happen, please try to remain calm. Remember, it won't hurt you in the slightest."

"What are y—GAH!?" Lord Whitehill started asking before he – and everyone else – suddenly recoiled in surprise and slight fear as a strange light appeared over the table.

But this light wasn't like the objects from the hallways. This light had a more 'solid' appearance to it as it took the shape of an extremely elderly man clad in majestic black robes. Standing to his side was what could've only been another knight, but one dressed in black and wearing a very fear-inducing helm. Just by a cursory glance, Robb could see that the robed old man had an aura of command about him, not unlike what most lords had. But his heavily wrinkled and scarred face made for disgusting and hateful visage.

"These two men you see before you are Emperor Palpatine, the old man," Ser Ezra said as he casually pointed towards the floating image. He continued to speak in that same low, calm voice. And the more he spoke, the more his calmness about the magical feat he was performing began to soothe the nervous lords around him. "And the black knight is his chief lieutenant, the supreme commander of the Empire's army and navy. His name is Darth Vader. Both of these men are _extremely_ powerful Sith Lords. I suppose you guys would call them…sorcerers, wizards? Anyway, they are incredibly powerful and dangerous. And they rule the Empire with a cold, iron-grip."

He paused a moment to let those statements sink in. All of the northern lords now wore grim, solemn expressions as they stared at the images. In their minds ran the same general thought of having an evil sorcerer rule over them. Most of the Lords themselves had experienced the rule of a mad king and fought in the war against his son. So, naturally, they tried to envision what life would've been like had the Mad King also possessed powerful magics with an equally powerful and loyal dark knight at his side. The vision too horrifying for them to wish to pursue beyond just the initial thoughts of it.

"As you might've already guessed," Ser Ezra began again as he started tapping away at the object in his hand. "Not everyone enjoyed being ruled over by them. Some people began to fight back, such as me and my friends."

Then the image changed, and the gathered lords all recoiled slightly in surprise at what they saw. There was a group of six figures standing in fighting poses with various strange weapons in the hands. One of them was clearly a younger version of Ser Ezra, wielding a slightly different version of the sword he'd used earlier. There was a dark-haired man who wore a green shoulder pauldron and gauntlets, also wielding a blue sword. There was a young woman clad in light but very colorful armor who had two of the small red bolt weapons in her hands, though her face was covered in a strange helmet. But it was the last three figures that really drew the northerners' attentions. One was clearly female. It would've been impossible to mistake that feminine figure as anything else. But she had _green skin_ and two thick _tentacles_ in place of hair! The second figure was definitely the largest of the group in both height and muscle mass. It's face was like that of a snarling bulldog as it swung a large metal staff that had wicked golden lightning dancing along it. And the smallest figure was what Robb had initially thought was some kind of strangely shaped trash bin, but it had two large leg-like structures on its sides, a pair of knobby arms emerging from the sides of its head, and a 'face' that had three eyes but no mouth or nose.

"Wh-Wh-What are those things?!" Gryff Whitehill demanded loudly as his hands gripped tightly at his sword's hilt, voicing the question everyone was wondering.

"Demons!" his father hissed next to him, eyes narrowing in hatred at the three nonhumans before shooting over to glare threateningly at Ser Ezra. "So, we have a _demon-worshiper_ among us!"

"Calm down," Ser Ezra said in a soft, soothing voice, waving his hand in a soft gesture. Somehow, that small gesture seemed to help carry extra weight on Ezra's words. Enough weight that it did manage to steady the nerves of the slightly panicking northerners. "This is my team, the Phoenix Cell of Lothal," Ser Ezra said. "That is—er, _was_…my teacher, Kanan Jarrus, also a Jedi Knight. The green lady is our ship captain, Hera Syndulla. With them are Sabine Wren, one of our best fighters and who is extremely skilled at making things explode. The big guy is Zeb. He's the muscle, obviously. And that grumpy bucket of rust is Chopper, he was good at fixing things when he wasn't complaining."

Once he was sure that no one would do anything rash, the young knight continued on, smiling slightly as he turned his attention to the image. "Hera is a creature called a Twi'lek. Her people hail from a land called Ryloth. Zeb is a Lasat from a place called Lira San. Don't worry, both of them are places _way_ too far away to ever bother you guys. And despite what they look like, they are actually _very nice_ people. They are no more demonic or evil than any of you guys are."

Despite the reassurances, Robb could literally feel the tension still hanging thick in the air, _especially_ over Ludd and Gryff who were the only followers of the Faith of the Seven in the room.

"And how does any of this pertain to this Empire coming here?" Medger asked, looking pointedly at the young knight.

"I'm getting to that, just be patient," Ezra said, once again holding up a hand in a calming gesture but carrying nowhere near as much weight, before returning to tapping on his control device. After he did, the image changed once again.

This time it took the form of a battlefield of some kind. Unlike the earlier images, this one was actually moving and the lords could watch as the battle progressed. Robb peered closely into the image, trying to spot as many details as he could. One thing made extremely obvious from the start was that this battlefield was far different than any he'd ever heard of in his history lessons with Maester Luwin. One side of the battle seemed to be made up metallic, skeletal, almost buglike-shaped creatures. They were fighting upon a bridge of some kind high up in the air against an army of white armored knights, similar but different to the knights they fought against outside. Red and blue bolts of death were flying everywhere as explosions went over on both sides, killing man and creature alike.

"What you are seeing is one of the last battles of the Clone Wars fought about 20 years ago," Erza narrated as the lords watched. "This war was a turning point in the history of my people. You see, the Empire arose from the ashes of an old republic. Sadly, the Republic had grown fat and decadent, ruling for pleasure and wealth rather than to govern the people. Naturally, over time, people began to rebel and desired their freedom from such a corrupt system. They broke away from the Republic and formed their own government, the Confederacy. However, the Republic wouldn't let them go without a fight, which in turn caused this war you see here. Many, _many_ people died during this conflict. But over time, the Republic had started to win more battles because they had something the other side didn't: the Jedi Knights."

Even as he spoke the words, a man with an unnaturally shaped head wearing strange clothing and wielding a blue sword appeared. With just his sword and no apparent armor, this 'Jedi Knight' began to deflect and reflect any bolt that came near him. He was shouting and pointing mutely at the white knights, commanding them. Under his leadership, as well as the use of some unknown magical powers from the Jedi, the white knights began to steadily gain more and more ground, crossing the bridge and pushing their enemies back further and further. Despite himself, Robb felt his blood starting to rise in excitement as he watched the battle unfold.

"However, what no one knew at that time was that it was all a ruse, a lie," Ser Ezra said, bitterness clear in tone. "For you see, it was all a plot by the then-Chancellor of the Republic—er, the king, I guess. The Chancellor was a secret a magic user, an evil sorcerer of the vilest magics. He was a Sith Lord, part of an ancient Order of sorcerers who were also the sworn enemies of the Jedi Knights. As such, he wanted only two things in life: power and the deaths of _all_ the Jedi. He was so conniving that he was able to manipulate both sides of the war to his own benefit. He got the Confederacy to start the war. Then, when the time was right, he issued a secret directive to the Republic's troopers everywhere. This directive was Order 66, which labeled all of the Jedi everywhere as traitors to the Republic and called for their instant execution, with no chance of a trial."

Even as he said that, Robb watched as that very order was carried out. The white knights came to an abrupt halt behind their charging commander and leveled their weapons upon him. The Jedi clearly sensed the change in his troops, turning around and staring at them in confusion and mounting surprise. Then they opened fire on him remorselessly. The Jedi was caught between the two warring sides, both of which were firing their bolts upon him at the same time. He fell to the ground dead after just a couple of them penetrated his guard, with several more hitting his corpse afterwards to no doubt ensure he had died.

"Following this betrayal," Ser Ezra continued grimly as the image changed from the battlefield to what was clearly the coronation of the now-Emperor. He stood in the midst of some kind of amphitheater, surrounded by many thousands of people and creatures, arms raised in victorious celebration as his wrinkled face smiled in elation. "The Emperor sent his new enforcer, Darth Vader, to bring a swift end to the war by killing all of the Confederacy leaders. Without their leadership, the Confederacy swiftly was overwhelmed and absorbed into the new Galactic Empire. That had been Palpatine's plan all along. To use the war as a cover while he amassed more and more political power unto himself until he could name himself Emperor and have no challengers to his rule."

Then the image changed to something very different. The scenery was so drastically different than anything Robb could've imagined. He saw a large city sprawled across the ground with many buildings, but none were as imposing or massive as the metal dome that dominated the center of the cityscape. There was smoke and fire everywhere as massive green bolts of death rained down upon the city from the three enormous wedge-shaped vessels that were floating above the ground menacingly. "What you are seeing here is the last few moments of a battle I'd fought in a little while ago. This was the final, decisive battle that my friends and I fought against the Empire to free my homeland of Imperial occupation. I don't know how the battle ended…_for sure_, but I am confident that my friends won."

As he watched, a swarm of…_flying krakens_ came swooping out of the skies, led by a blocky looking vessel. The smaller of the flying krakens attacked a bunch of screaming things that came flooding out from the larger vessels' underbellies. As that happened, the much larger krakens rammed headfirst into two of the wedge vessels, smashing and destroying them in fiery explosions. When that happened, Robb heard a joyous laugh escape from Theon behind him. He didn't need to look to know that the Greyjoy heir was grinning widely as he watched something that must've been akin to a wetdream to any Ironborn.

However, as the krakens approached the third and final vessel, rather than ram it, some of them began to grab onto it. They tightened their tentacles upon its hull so powerfully that some areas of the vessel buckled and broke apart. Then, strangely, the tentacles of the many krakens started to glow as they spread and opened widely. With a massive lunge forward at bursts of speed too unimaginable for any man to comprehend, the krakens seemingly vanished into thin air. Even the ones surrounding and clinging to the last vessel lunged forward, dragging their massive prize along with them into the void.

After that, the image abruptly cut out and vanished. The room was silent as every man and boy present tried to comprehend what they'd just seen. After several moments, Lord Glover turned back to Ser Ezra. "I assume that you and those stormtroopers were aboard that last vessel?"

"Yes," Ser Ezra nodded.

"So, this…ship can really _fly?!_" Robb asked, both excited and scared of the answer he'd receive.

"No, not anymore," Ser Ezra answered, shaking his head. "See, when the purgil dragged us away—eh, those flying creatures, I mean. When they pulled us away from Lothal, they were essentially pulling us out into unexplored space. As you probably know, going anywhere that's unexplored can be _pretty dangerous_. And that's what happened to this ship. They had accidentally dragged us into a very large and deadly lightning storm. The storm heavily damaged a lot of the critical parts of the ship, most importantly of all being the parts that keep it aloft. So, we ended just drifting about, floating uncontrollably for several long days before we ended up crashing _here_ a few weeks ago. And while _some_ parts of the ship still have power, like the doors, lights, a few of the turbolaser cannons, and even stuff like the hologram projector—" He gestured vaguely towards the table center as he said that. "This ship will _never_ fly again. So, the Imperials and I are all marooned here until or _if_ someone manages to find us."

Looking about the room, Ser Ezra sent them a small grin as he saw their slightly gawking expressions. "If anyone's got any questions, I'd be happy to answer them later. But first, would you guys mind if we took a break? I don't know about you, but I'm _starving!_"

Several of the men around the table chuckled quietly at that statement, including Eddard. The Warden of the North nodded as he climbed to his feet. "Aye, I agree. A lunch break would be welcome, and it'll give us time to think about all you've told us, Ser Ezra."

"You don't need to call me '_Ser_ Ezra'," the young knight said quietly, flushing slightly. "I'm not _technically_ a knight yet. And I still have a lot to learn about the Force."

"Nonetheless," Medger said, also standing up, as did more of the lords. "I agree with Lord Stark. And we should also check up on how well our men are…coping with their new quarters, as well as check on the prisoners."

"Aye," numerous others agreed.

Robb joined the others as they headed for the door, already quietly muttering amongst themselves of everything they'd just seen and heard.

"Flying krakens," Theon breathed out softly, a starry-eyed expression of wonder and yearning on his face as he remembered those creatures. "I never thought such things were possible before. And they were so…_beautiful!_"

Robb couldn't stop the slight chuckles that escaped him as he listened to his friend. Beside him, Jon snorted in exasperation of the Ironborn. Both of them knew that the Greyjoy boy was likely going to be talking about those things for days, if not weeks, to come. He decided to bring up the most poignant part that he remembered. "Did you see that battle on the bridge? Can you imagine having to have fought there? Must've been terrifying. That knight and those troopers must've been truly brave and exceptional warriors."

Needless to say, there were a lot of similar conversations passing between the northerners as they departed the room.

* * *

**Hangar bay, **_**Chimaera**_**  
Later that afternoon**

"So, these weapons can truly be used by anyone?" a Glover bannerman asked. Unlike his fellows, he was rather excited as his gaze bounced between the 'blaster rifle' in his hands and the strange young knight who stood before them.

"Yes, as long as you know what you're doing," Ezra said, nodding his head with a slight smile on his face as he looked about the large that stood around him. In his hands was another rifle as he demonstrated the proper holding and firing stances of the weapon to the men who'd been selected to be the guards of the prisoners. "But remember, these weapons don't have infinite power. Once you use up the power clip—" Pressing a small button on the stock, he ejected a small portion of metal and held it out for all to see before continuing, "—then the rifle is basically dead. If you want to use it again, you have to replace the clip with a fresh one."

The 50 or so men who were gathered around him for this little lesson all began carefully looking over their own weapons, quickly finding the same button that Ezra had revealed. "Sadly, because you guys don't have the proper knowledge or tools to make any more, once these clips run out, that's it. You won't be able to use them again for…maybe _centuries_, or until you can learn the mechanics and processes of building these for yourselves. So, remember to always make _every shot count_."

"Aye!" the crowd called, understanding what he was saying.

Seeing that they understood, Ezra nodded. "Good, now back to your posts. And be sure tell the others everything I just did you."

The crowd quickly dispersed, heading back to their other companions. As they did, Ezra looked down into the hangar bay from the walkway he stood on overhead. Most of the captured Imperials had been brought inside and essentially barricaded into one portion of the bay by crudely made barriers. If he were being honest, Ezra did feel a bit reserved in the northerners' treatment of their captures. They were cold, aggressive, and even somewhat cruel. But given the era in which their society was presently in, as well as the rather harsh conditions of their homeland, he could understand why and how they were the way they were. Hard living made for hard men, as he knew all too well himself.

'_I wonder just how many of the Imperials haven't realized just what they are in store for_,' Ezra thought to himself. '_Some of them probably think that Lord Stark was bluffing when he said that they'd execute them for their actions. That their status as Imperial soldiers will somehow protect them from these northerners' swords_.' It was a grim thought, so he didn't dwell on it.

"Ser Ezra?" a young voice asked from nearby. Turning, he found himself face to face with a group of kids who were all younger than himself. The one who'd spoken was the redhead of the group, Lord Stark's son if he remembered right.

"You don't need to call me 'Ser,' kids," Ezra reminded the kids with a small grin. "I'm not from your land. And I'm pretty sure I don't meet the your standards of what a knight is."

The boys glanced among themselves for a moment. Ezra could see their obvious hesitation easily, as well as their nearly overwhelming curiosity about himself, the Imperials, the crashed Destroyer they were in, and just everything in general. So, that being the case, he waited patiently for one of them to muster themselves and ask the first question. After all, he had promised that he would answer and it's not like he had anything better to do until later.

"Back in the battle," a quiet voice from the back of the group spoke up. Everyone turned to look at the speaker, allowing Ezra to see it was someone who he was able to somewhat recognize as the dark-haired boy who had followed with Lord Stark. The boy faltered for a moment, apparently surprised and slightly unsettled at being the center of attention, but quickly refocused himself back on Ezra. "I saw you do things that…seem impossible, looking back on it."

"Oh yeah?" Lord Stark's son said, looking inquisitively at the dark-haired one. "Like what? I didn't get to see much at all until the end of it."

"When he jumped from the tower he was controlling, he stretched out his hand and slowed his fall," the boy answered, glancing at each of others, silently asking if they'd seen the same feat and earning a few nods. Then he looked back straight at Ezra. "And then you were able to use that blue sword to shield against the death bolts the soldiers were shooting. You even were able to jump very far, at least _ten meters_ at one point! How could you be able to do things like that?"

"What are you talking about, Snow?" one of the elder boys among the group, who must've been at least in his latter teen years, demanded in a snide tone. There was the image of a golden squid proudly emblazoned on his chest, a simple bow visible over his shoulder, and an arrogant gleam to his eye as he sneered down at the young kid. "Those things flew as fast as arrows! No way could anyone have been able to, what, deflect them with a sword? That's just crazy talk, bastard!"

"No, he's actually right," Ezra inserted quickly, seeing and sensing the 'Snow' kid's temper starting to spike. "I did deflect those blaster bolts with my lightsaber. As for how I did it, I used the Force to sense where they were heading and to know when to move my lightsaber to protect myself."

As the elder kid gave him a strange look of surprise, confusion, and sneering disbelief, the others just looked at him questioningly.

"The Force?" the unquestioned eldest of the group asked. He was easily around Ezra's age with the beginnings of a full beard and mustache starting to grow in, dressed in good quality armor with a prominent white tree and sword sigil on his breast plate. "That's the second time I've heard you mention that. What is it?"

Despite himself, Ezra couldn't stop the slight chuckle that escape him at that question. He remembered all-too-well himself asking Kanan that very same question. "The Force is everywhere. It surrounds us, binds us, and holds the galaxy together." He wasn't too surprised to see the lack of comprehension on their numerous faces.

"Okay, but what _is_ the Force?" Lord Stark's son asked.

"Well, to put it _**very**_ simply, I guess you could say that the Force is like magic," Ezra answered easily. "It's a very special invisible energy that surrounds and empowers us. The Force is created by life and living creatures. Just by being alive, you are connected to the Force and contribute to its power." Bringing his hand up to rub his chin thoughtfully, he began muttering to himself, "Hm, how best to describe it…? Oh!" He smacked his fist in his palm as an idea hit him. "You guys are familiar with castles, right?"

"Yes," more than one of them rolled their eyes at the seemingly pointless question, but Ezra just continued grinning as he went on.

"Okay, think of it this way," he said. "Everyone in the world is a stone in the wall. And the Force is like the mortar that is layered between the stones, holding them together, giving them strength and form. Understand?" Now, that comparison drew a lot more positive feedback!

"That sounds…nice and all," the loudmouth teen interrupted, looking both unsettled and curious. "But how does _that_ relate to what the bastard said?"

"I was getting to that," Ezra said, giving the young man a somewhat stern, reproving stare, which caused the boy to awkwardly drop his chin slightly in submission. "To those who can feel and use the Force, it can give us certain abilities, like moving objects with our mind, visions of the past or future, and being able to fight harder, faster, and longer than a normal man could."

"Sooo, what you're saying is…" the young man said with a growing cocky grin on his face. "That without this fancy sword or magic helping you, you couldn't have won against those 'stormtroopers' down there? Ha! Some knight you are! I bet I could even beat you if you didn't have those powers of yours."

Ezra couldn't help cocking an eyebrow at this kid's boastfulness. He didn't even need the Force to know that the young man was trying to intimidate or exert some kind of dominance over him for whatever reason. '_Jeez, are all pre-space travel cultures this barbaric, or just this world? Or just this kid?_'

"Would you like to test that theory?" Ezra challenged, his face neutral and cool as he stared at the kid.

The cocky kid blinked, obviously not expecting Ezra to take him up on his challenge. "What?"

Rolling his shoulders, Ezra fixed him with a smirk. "I asked if you wanted to put that theory to the test?" Stepping forward, Ezra placed himself right in front of the cocky kid. "You said you think you can beat me if I didn't have the Force to aid me. Then prove it. A spar, you and I, here and now. And just to fair, I won't use the Force at all during the fight."

The boy looked over to his companions, obviously looking for help but finding none. Realizing he'd backed himself into a corner, the cocky boy quickly recollected himself and turned back to him, his cocky grin reappearing on his face. "Alright, you're on! But let's make it more interesting… I get to name the type of contest and, if I win, I get your fancy sword."

Ezra could sense something in the cocky boy. He was supremely confident about this. He wasn't afraid to lose simply because he didn't think he could. And while he was confident that he could beat the cocky boy in just about any contest, he couldn't put his lightsaber on the line. It was far too valuable to risk losing. Especially as he wasn't sure just when or even how he would be able to get home. He could almost hear Kanan's voice in his head, '_A Jedi cannot let their pride get in their way_.'

"You can name the competition, but I cannot put my lightsaber on the line," Ezra countered, which made the cocky boy smile more.

"Ha! So, you admit that without your fancy powers, you'd lose!"

"Not at all," Ezra shot back, feeling more than slightly annoyed at the cocky boy's attitude. "But a lightsaber is a Jedi's _life_. And not only that, it is one of the last remaining mementos I have of my former Master."

"Master?" Lord Stark's son questioned quickly, his face morphing into a frown. "You had a master? We've heard of such things here in the North, but I never thought I'd see it. I mean, those troopers from the Empire were talking about it and they seemed pretty serious about it. But now that you mention it, were you a slave?"

Shaking his head, Ezra spoke quickly to try and clear up the misunderstanding. "No. Well, yes, to the fact that there _is_ slavery in the Empire. Disgusting practice, if you ask me. But no, _I_ wasn't a slave. My Master, Kanan Jarrus, was the man who instructed me in the ways of the Force and how to become a Jedi Knight. He helped me gain the resolve to fight against the Empire and their tyrannical reign. He was my Master and I was his Padawan, his apprentice."

"He sounds like a good man," the Snow kid said with a look of respect.

"He was," Ezra nodded. The sorrow he felt nowadays whenever he thought of his former Master coming back in full force. "He died not too long ago. He sacrificed himself so that I and the others on our team could escape after rescuing Hera from prison." Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Ezra refocused his attention back on the cocky kid. "So, no, I will _not_ wager my lightsaber on such a simple contest. It is _far_ too important to me."

Despise the look of blatant disappointment, the kid nodded, "Fine, fine. Keep your fancy sword." Then his grin returned as he continued, "Anyway, the contest! How about archery? The one who can hit the farthest target wins."

Ezra didn't fail to notice the knowing glances, rolled eyes, and shaking heads from the boy's companions as he made his choice. 'Given the bow over his shoulder and the others' reactions, he must be pretty good as an archer.' "I've never used a bow before," he admitted in a somewhat whimsical fashion. "Sure, why not? Sounds fun! So, what's your name? What's _all_ of your names?"

"I am Robb Stark, son and heir of Lord Stark," the redhead said quickly before gesturing to the Snow kid. "This is my half-brother, Jon Snow." Then he pointed to the cocky kid with the squid sigil, "That's Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands and a ward of House Stark." Ezra noticed how Theon's eye twitched in agitation and a spike of resentment shot through him at the mention of his living status. Then Robb gestured to the young man with the tree sigil, who nodded simply. "This is Rodrik Forrester, sworn to House Glover."

"Let's take this outside," Theon suggested with his usual cocky grin, gesturing towards the hangar opening.

Ezra just returned his grin with a small one of his own. If nothing else, this could be fun.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Big time thanks to **ffdrake** for helping me with this chapter! And if you guys haven't read his Game of Thrones x Star Wars story '_Song of the Northern Sorcerer_' you don't know what you're missing out on!

Unfortunately, this chapter hasn't quite reached the point I wanted to post it at. But I figured that I might as well post what I have now, since I don't know when I'll get my muse back. You see, I - like most people in my area - was somewhat affected by that tornado that tore through middle Tennessee last week. Since then, I've been having to deal with power loss, debris cleanup and repair, closed roads, destroyed stores, and overtime at my new job. Yeah, it's tedious and annoying. So, I haven't had much spark recently work on this story. Hopefully that'll change as things improve, but we'll see.

Thanks for reading and please remember to post a review! I would REALLY like to know all your thoughts, opinions, and suggestions for this chapter and story!


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